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INTRODUCTION 



GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. 



DESIGNED FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS. 



BY JONATHAN BARBER, 

MEMBER OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS, LONDON: 
LATE INSTRUCTER IN ELOCUTION IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 



SECOND EDITION REVISED AND IMPROVED, 



BOSTON: 
MARSH, CAPEN & LYON, 

1836. 



TN+i"' 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by 
Marsh, Capejv & Lyon, in the Clerk's office of the District 
Court of Massachusetts. 



PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 



It is now six years since the first publication of my 
e Grammar of Elocution.' The design of that work 
was to bring the system of Elocution into a compass 
fitted for the instruction to be given in our colleges 
and higher schools. At that time it was my intention 
to have followed it up immediately with another work, 
like this, the second edition of which is now offered to 
the public, whose object might be to introduce the 
study of the system in our common schools. Nume- 
rous engagements, however, concurred in preventing 
me, for some years, from fulfilling the original design. 
It is gratifying to observe the increasing interest 
which both our colleges and schools are beginning to 
take in the subject of this little work. Dr. Rush's 
large and valuable work has some time since reached 
a second edition. The second edition of the Gram- 
mar is almost exhausted, and the circulation of both is 
continually extending in quarters where their effects 
cannot fail of being felt. The notice of our teachers, 
generally, begins to be directed to the system they 
contain, and this is all which its supporters desire 
for it. 

- The ^e\v pages of this work are not offered to the 
public as containing a complete expose of the philoso- 



IV PREFACE. 

phy of the human voice. It is intended strictly for 
almost the youngest class of pupils who can be brought 
with any advantage to the study. For the very young- 
est, even greater simplification, especially as regards 
the selection of exercises for reading, will be neces- 
sary. This task, also, I hope ere long to be able to 
perform. Elementary instruction in Elocution must 
commence early, to be made fully useful. It cannot 
be continued too long, or followed out in its practical 
applications too thoroughly. J. B. 



CONTENTS 



Pa°re. 



Preface, 





• 


3 

9 

25 


Introduction, . . 
Chapter I. On the Vocal Elements, 




Tables for practice on do. 




31 


Chapter II. 


On the Elements of Expres: 


sion, 


39 


Chapter III. 


On Pitch, Concrete and Radical, 


41 


Chapter IV. 


On Concrete Pitch, or Slide, 


44 




Tables for practice on the 


Simple 






Slides,. 




50 


Chapter V. 


Concrete Pitch, continued 




50 




Tables for practice on the 


Com- 






pound Slides, 




54 


Chapter VI. 


On Discrete or Radical Pitch, 


55 


Chapter VII 


. Do. continued, 




59 


Chapter VIII. On Force, 


. 


64 


Chapter IX. 


Do. continued, 


. 


68 




Radical Stress, 


. 


68 




Tables for practice on do. 




70 




Vanishing Stress, 




70 




Tables for practice on do. 


. 


72 




Compound Stress, 




72 




Median Stress, 


. 


73 




Tables for practice on do. 




73 


Chapter X. 


On Quantity, 




74 




Tables for practice on do. 




79 



VI CONTENTS. 

Page. 
Chapter XI. On Quality, ... 80 

Chapter .XII. On Accent, ... 83 

Chapter XIII. On Analysis, . . . 91 
Conclusion, 102 



EXERCISES. 

SCORED. 

I. Reply of Mr. Pitt, .... 104 

II. St. Paul's defence before Agrippa, . 106 

III. On Sincerity. TUlotson, . . .110 

IV. On Happiness of Temper. Goldsmith, 113 

V. The Exile of Erin. Campbell, . 117 

VI. Lucy. Wordsworth, ... 120 

VII. Paper. — A Conversational Pleasantry. 

Dr. Franklin, . . . . 121 

UNSCORED. 

VIII. Battle of Hastings. Lingard, . 125 

IX. Discovery of America, by Columbus. 

Robertson, .... 129 

X. The raising of Lazarus, . . 137 

XI. The death of Eli, .... 140 

XII. The Confession. From the Episcopal 

Service, 143 

XIII. Speech of Adams. Webster, . 143 

XIV. Speech of Mr. Plunket on the Irish 

Union, ..... 145 

XV. The same, continued, . . . 149 

XVI. Speech of Mr. Burke, on the New 

England Whale Fishery, . 152 



CONTENTS. Vll 

Page. 

XVII. The discontented Pendulum. Jane 

Taylor, .... 154 

XVIII. Knickerbocker's Characteristics of 

the New Englanders. W.Irving, 157 

XIX. Casabianca, .... 161 

XX. Gertrude. Mrs. Hemans, 162 

XXI. Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq. Coivper. 165 

XXII. The Country Bumpkin, and the Ra- 

zor seller. P. Pindar, . 167 

XXIII. Report of an adjudged case, not to 

be found in any of the Books. 
Cowper. . . . . 169 

XXIV. The Modest retort, ... 171 

XXV. Address to the Mummy in Belzoni's 

exhibition, London. New Month- 
ly Magazine, . . . 172 



INTRODUCTION. 



Elocution is not yet fully admitted into the num- 
ber of acknowledged sciences. A few years ago, 
indeed, there were hardly any to be found who would 
allow of its utility at all. A great change in this 
respect has been lately taking place ; but even now 
no small number continue to avow themselves unbe- 
lievers in it. — They seem to fancy that good speak- 
ing must, like honest Dogberry's reading and writ- 
ing, c come by nature ;' that he who possesses natu- 
ral facility will of course speak well, while he who 
has it not is doomed to remain forever a mere bung- 
ler. 

It is the more difficult to combat this idea, because 
like most other errors, it contains a slight admixture 
of truth. In Elocution, as in every other science, 
natural talent is no doubt required for the attainment 
of extraordinary proficiency. There are many per- 
sons to whom it would be impossible to give any no- 
tion of its higher beauties, just as there are many 
who never can be taught to appreciate fully the sister 
arts of music, painting, or sculpture. There are 
even some who cannot be taught at all, just as there 
are some who cannot be brought to distinguish notes 
1 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

in music, or colors in painting. Almost any one, 
indeed, may enter on a course of instruction in Elo- 
cution with at least as good a prospect of success as 
he could reasonably entertain in pursuing any other 
of the fine arts. What though none but the highly 
gifted can reach the first rank, — is this any reason 
why they alone should make the effort to escape the 
lowest ? What though some two or three in the 
thousand cannot rise at all, — is this a sufficient rea- 
son why all the rest should lie down contented for- 
ever to conceal their natural defects by bearing them 
company ? Singers and performers of great respec- 
tability are manufactured every day by study, from 
among the middle class of musical men. Why then, 
in an art which all must practise, well or ill, accord- 
ing as they may be proficients in it, (and such is the 
art of Elocution,) why, we ask, should not every 
one attempt, at least, to cultivate the powers he 
has, to their utmost ? 

But there are many persons, who, though they do 
not thus object to Elocution altogether, would yet, 
perhaps, in casting their eyes over the pages of this 
work or of the Grammar, denounce the system they 
contain, as much too complex for their learning. 
They prefer the old vague terms of rising and falling 
inflexion, to the precise nomenclature introduced by 
Dr. Rush. — His analysis they think too difficult of 
comprehension ; and therefore they choose rather to 
employ undefinable words to convey undefined 
ideas. But this comparison of systems proceeds on 
a most unfair basis. Is one system really better than 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

another, merely because it gives the learner fewer 
names and scantier directions? Surely not. The 
only question we have a right to ask- is, Which is 
the system of Nature 9 When we have settled this 
point, our inquiries are ended. All we have to do 
is to submit to nature, to learn her system ; for we 
may rest assured we shall never make a better. 

Is it a fact that nature's systems are always simple: 
Let the theory of music serve as an example. Who 
that has ever studied it scientifically, with all its 
rules of time, accent, melody, harmony, discord, 
and expression, (and be it remembered that this is 
the only way to understand music so as to compose 
it) will ever apply to it the epithet of simple? Who 
would not smile at the folly of the tyro, who should 
on that account alone, decline its study? Who w r ould 
not more than smile, if, after passing by the true and 
complex system of nature, he were to take up with 
some paltry and disjointed fractions of it, in hopes 
by their aid to make himself a musical composer with 
less labor? Nor is the case different in any of the 
other arts. To comprehend the laws of perspective, 
without which no rules can be given to direct to 
practical excellence in painting, requires an acquaint- 
ance with no small portion of the abstrusities of 
mathematics. The only way to overcome such dif- 
ficulties, is to meet them where they are, not to en- 
deavor to forget their existence. 

It is on this ground that we take our stand in de- 
fending this system of Elocution. Simple or com- 
plex, it is the scheme of nature. The directions 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

which it gives are not a whit more refined than those 
which nature, carefully observed, presents to us. If 
those who object to them would submit to follow 
out this careful observation, instead of suffering their 
prejudices or idleness to contradict the experience of 
those who have done so, they would soon be con- 
vinced of the fact. Until this is done, the old em- 
pirical system will not fail to find supporters. 

What one point, then, is there in this system, of 
which it can be said with truth, that nature does not 
recognise it? An anonymous critic, eminent no 
doubt in his own line, but far from an adept, as we 
venture to think, in Elocution, has objected, in are- 
cent review of the Grammar, to the vocal elements, 
as they are enumerated at the outset. He tells us, 
that c to utter the sounds of the consonants as distinct 
sounds ' he holds ' to be an impossibility, and direc- 
tions for doing so, and descriptions of them, to be 
not only futile but likely to endanger the formation 
of a habit of harsh utterance.' What, however, are 
we to think of the degree of attention with which 
this reviewer, who insists on the exclusive ''imitation 
of nature,' has in reality observed her, when, con- 
founding the sound of ' m ' as heard in ' rn-an ' 
with the name of the letter l em,' he expresses, three 
lines after, his surprise that it should ever have been 
likened ' to the lowing of an ox?' What are we to 
think of the ro portion which his habits of observa- 
tion and reflection bear to those of witticism, when 
we find, three pages after, that he cannot see how 
Demosthenes could have learned the sound of the 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

trilled ' r ' (in ' r-apture ') by imitating the dog, 
4 unless the dogs of ancient Greece spoke a language 
very different from the bow-wow-wow of the canine 
race of modern days? ' Did he never, in any of his 
perambulations by day or night, hear the cheering 
sound of a ' canine ' growl 9 Let any one explain 
in what way it is possible to say ' man ' without ac- 
tually giving, distinctly or indistinctly, as the case may 
be, the three sounds ' m ' c a ' ' n,' and we will con- 
sent to strike out the consonantal elements from the 
table. Let any one show in what respect it can be 
better, for the purposes of ensuring distinct articula- 
tion, never to attempt their separate utterance, and 
we will recommend the pupil to take this easy meth- 
od of avoiding too great harshness in his pronuncia- 
tion: till then, we abide by what we think the scheme 
of nature. 

Nor is the list of slides and waves, given in the 
two chapters on Concrete Pitch, in any degree im- 
aginary. The difference between the slide on the 
word 'no, (I won't ') and that on 'who?' is a real 
one, and is made for real and definite purposes. It 
is easy to say the list given is a long one ; it is not 
quite so easy to prove it too long. No one, we 
venture to assert, who will only listen once to each 
of those we have enumerated, will find any difficulty 
in perceiving that no two are alike, either in sound or 
meaning. No one, possessed of the musical talent 
required for the task, if he will take the pains to 
analyze them musically, will discover any inappro- 
priateness in their names, or errors in their defini- 
1* 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

tions. Why then are we called on to reject lhem ? 
and to be content with 4 rising and falling inflec- 
tions,' words used now to express one meaning, 
now another, never defined, in fact wholly unintelli- 
gible? Till it can be shown that two such terms are 
in truth sufficient to designate intelligibly and without 
confusion all the multiplied combinations of radical 
and concrete pitch in speech, we cannot adopt them. 
Till the more precise arrangement given here and in 
the Grammar, is proved actually faulty ; till experi- 
ment fair and decisive has overthrown, what experi- 
ment alone originally discovered, we cannot consent 
to abandon it, however some may cavil at its refine- 
ments. 

The same lin* of argume t holds good on all the 
other points of the system as on these. The modi- 
fications of force and stress, the essential conditions 
of agreeable long quantity, the rules of accent, the 
principles of analysis, are all of them to be found in 
nature. We are not at liberty to reject or pass by 
any of them. 

But it may be asked, Is nothing to be done, then, 
to render the study of Elocution easy? Are we, on 
account of the general difficulty of the way, to leave 
untouched the many stumbling-blocks which the road 
presents ? By no means. All we say is, Let the 
road go really through the intended country. If the 
region be hilly, make the road as level as you can; 
but do not carry it through another district. Any 
thing that may be done to render easy the way of 
communicating truth, difficult or not, it will be well 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

to do. Any departure from the real truths of a sci- 
ence, to something else more specious, is mere tri- 
fling; it is worse than trifling; it is deception. 
Whether or not all that can be done in this lespect 
has really been accomplished, in the Grammar and 
in this work, is another question, which it is not com- 
petent for their author to decide. The utmost he 
can do, is, to acknowledge the attempt. 

But still there may remain a separate objection to 
the peculiar design of the present work. Is it not 
impossible to teach young children an art, which, on 
our own showing, is so far from being the simple, 
straight-forward affair, contrived in the old books of 
Elocution? Why not be content with the endeavor 
to make young men good speakers, without thus forc- 
ing the task on the attention of the child? The 
answer is a simple one. It is in childhood that bad 
habits of delivery are least deeply rooted, that the 
voice is found to be most flexible, and best fitted for 
improvement. As the pupil advances in years, his 
bad habits are all the while increasing in number and 
in force; and the effort requisite to overthrow them 
is consequently becoming in the same proportion 
more severe. Practise the child on a course of exer- 
cises fitted to prevent him from ever falling into these 
mistakes, teach him that certain ways of speaking 
convey always certain meanings, make him read and 
talk with a constant reference to this knowledge, and 
you will have gained a most important point. The 
great source of difficulty will be then removed. 
You will have the child thus previously trained com- 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

paratively free from faults in his elocution, and 
therefore ready, as he grows older, to appreciate and 
attain the highest excellencies of speech. Indeed, 
till some such means be generally resorted to, we 
know not how a fair trial can be made of the utility 
of instruction in Elocution. As long as men are left 
for twenty years or more, to acquire without restraint 
any defects of utterance they may chance to pick up, 
it will continue next to impossible even to reform 
their faults, by a few months only of study and prac- 
tice. The earlier the required preparation is begun, 
the further may the after process be pushed. 

And all this can be done, nay, is done, in the kin- 
dred art of music. All the mysteries of musical sci- 
ence are now actually in process of communication 
to large classes of mere children in this very city. 
These children have nothing of importance left un- 
explained or unpractised. They are exercised in 
the most thorough and elementary manner, beginning 
at the very rudiments, and proceeding regularly 
through the whole, — no part of the system being left 
till fully mastered. — The success of this plan, as we 
need not say to any who have ever attended Mr. 
Lowell Mason's juvenile classes, is surprising. The 
performances of the children are correct and tasteful, 
their acquaintance with the principles of the art they 
practise, astonishing. And all this is done with no 
great labor to the pupil, and with no great loss of 
time to the teacher. The entire secret lies, in at- 
tending strictly to one thing at a time. This great 
principle of the Pestalozzian system, we have en- 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

deavored to extend to the course of exercises di- 
rected in this work. 

Nor is it in music only, that the application of this 
principle has been found of such signal benefit to 
the young. All the superiority of the modern im- 
provements in education, over the old plans which 
they have superseded, may be traced to their adop- 
tion of it. — The system of mental arithmetic, for 
example, contained in the very valuable arithmetical 
works of Mr. Colburn, is based entirely on it. The 
unprecedented success which has followed their in- 
troduction into almost the earliest schools in the 
country, is an unanswerable argument in its favor. 

So much then for the objections which may be 
brought against the utility of the early course of 
practice which we recommend in Elocution. We 
may now ask in return, Ts not the study of the last 
importance? We have shown already, that it is only 
by beginning our instruction in this department early, 
that we can hope ever to reap its full advantages. It 
may now be added, that the department itself is not 
by any means a merely optional one. Music and 
the other fine arts, however pleasing, and even some- 
times useful, are yet far from being essential to a 
man's success in life. — They are accomplishments, 
elegant indeed, and well worth considerable trouble 
in attaining, but still nothing but accomplishments. 
But with Elocution every man must have to do. It 
is an essential part of every body's business. To 
some it may no doubt be of more consequence than 
to others ; but to all it must be, one day or other, 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

an object of some consequence. — And if every one 
must on occasion be repeatedly called to read and 
speak, under circumstances which may render it to 
their interest to do it well, is it not advisable that 
every one should take that course, by which alone 
they can reasonably hope to insure the power, when- 
ever it may be wanted? 

There are two circumstances connected with this 
mode of teaching Elocution, which, as they are 
very commonly lost sight of, it may be well to no- 
tice. The first is, we do not profess to have invent- 
ed a way, by studying which a man may speak well 
when he tries. Our object is to show the pupil the 
way, the only icay, in which he or any body else can 
speak effectively. — The modes of expressing feeling, 
which we have enumerated, are all natural, the very 
same which every one has to use, in order naturally 
to express them. How then can a knowledge of 
them make a man's delivery artificial ? 

The second point is, that we do not direct the 
pupil to be thinking of his Elocution, at the time 
when he may be really engaged in public speaking. 
It is a point on which we insist, as strenuously as the 
opposers of our system can, that any one who does 
so give attention to delivery, will be formal and arti- 
ficial. A man's whole soul must, all the time he is 
speaking, be devoted to his subject, in order that he 
may perfectly understand and thoroughly feel what 
he has to say. If for a single sentence his attention 
wander from the matter to the manner, his ability to 
do it justice will be materially diminished. But what 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

of this? A man may surely so practise his voice be- 
fore he comes to speak, as to feel justly confident, 
that he can never fail to express by it the very shade 
of feeling which he wishes to communicate. It is 
to the attainment of this excellence, by previous la- 
bor, that we urge the student of our system. The 
accomplished fencer never bestows a thought on his 
thrusts and parries, at the time when he is engaged 
in the performance of his most difficult feints. The 
orator does not call to mind the canons of the rhet- 
orical art, which he has learnt years before, and to 
which his practice is yet all in strict conformity. Is 
it impossible or unwise to do the very same in re- 
spect of Elocution, which all acknowledge should be 
done in every other department ? 

The mode by which we propose to accomplish 
our object is, strictly and exclusively, that of previ- 
ous practice. A few remarks on the nature and ex- 
tent of the practice required, will be all we shall of- 
fer to conclude this apology for Elocution. 

Delivery naturally divides itself into two distinct 
branches, — the correct and elegant utterance of all 
the sounds or words, to which a meaning has been 
given by conventional agreement, and the appropri- 
ate expression of the feelings of the mind by those 
means which nature has provided, and which she has 
rendered equally necessary to all her subjects. For 
example, — if we wish to repeat the sentence, ' Thou 
art the man,' in a proper manner, we shall have to 
direct the attention, first to the articulation of the 
words, and next to the expression of the meaning. 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

Any mispronunciation of the words, will be an of- 
fence against the conventional authority, which has 
settled and imposed them. Any erroneous commu- 
nication of the meaning, will be the result of a de- 
parture from the natw^al canons of delivery. A 
sentence like the one just given will admit of many 
meanings, according as the natural elements of ex- 
pression may be used by the person who reads it. 
We may make it wholly unemphatic, or, if we please, 
we may speak it as a positive denunciation. It may 
even be made a question, ' Thou art the man?' and 
the question may have any degree of earnestness we 
may like to give it. It may be read angrily or sor- 
rowfully. It may have the attention directed to any 
one of the words in it at pleasure: l Thou art the 
man,' ' Thou art the man,' &c. Any of these 
changes, (and they are a few only of those which 
might be enumerated,) are to be effected entirely by 
the natural modes of expression by the voice and 
gestures. 

The first step, then, in the gymnastics of Delivery 
is the acquisition of a perfectly distinct articulation ; 
the second is the obtaining a command over all the 
other functions of the voice, and over those motions 
of the body which are useful in supporting their ef- 
fect. Elocution, in its common sense, does not in- 
clude the last mentioned item. This is referred to 
under the head of Gesture. In this work, nothing 
is said of it. The pupil may be referred, after he 
has mastered the purely elocutionary system given 
here and in the Grammar, to another little treatise of 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

mine expressly on this subject, which will, I am sat- 
isfied, prove useful to any who would put this last 
finish to their mode of delivery. 

With respect to the precise character of the illus- 
trations and exercises contained in the succeeding 
chapters, it may be of use to add one or two hints to 
those persons who may honor them by employing 
them in their teaching. If we are not mistaken, 
there w,ill be found very few, if any, sentences in 
the body of this little book, which the pupils will 
not do well to understand and learn. The explana- 
tions may not perhaps be in every case of themselves 
sufficiently copious to meet the intelligence of some 
children. They have all been written with a view to 
careful recitation, and the great effort has throughout 
been to condense them. Wherever it may be found 
necessary, the teacher should enlarge on them till 
they are clearly understood. Nothing can be gained 
without this. The selection of examples, by which 
to illustrate the various movements of the voice, has 
proved no easy task. It has been made on the prin- 
ciple of always giving the pupil trial sentences, of 
such a character that their meaning should be 
readily perceived, and their proper intonation recog- 
nized. A greater number might have been advisable, 
in order to suit the different capacities of various in- 
dividuals ; but such an attempt would have increased 
the bulk of the work, beyond its reasonable limits. 
The teacher's ingenuity must be tasked to invent 
more, on the pattern furnished him. The degree to 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

which he will be called to exercise it, will be decid- 
ed by the talents of his class. No movement of the 
voice should be passed by, till the pupils have ob- 
tained a perfect perception of its sound and uses. In 
many cases, one example may suffice ; in others, 
several may be needed. 

Another point, which must not on any account be 
lost sight of, is the careful practice of all the prescrib- 
ed exercises. Practice is the sine qua non of Elocu- 
tion. If in any department of it, it be omitted, or 
even slurred over, the inevitable result will be failure. 
The pupil may have learnt the explanations, and un- 
derstood them ; he may have listened to, and laugh- 
ed at, the examples ; but if he have not practised all 
the exercises, till he has overcome their difficulties 
altogether, his own delivery will be but very little 
improved, however much he may have increased his 
power of criticizing others. 

In this practice of the exercises, many advantages 
will be found to result from requiring the whole class, 
however large, to go through all its exercises in 
concert. Where time allows, it may be well, per- 
haps, for single scholars in turn to follow the teach- 
er's voice, before the class make the attempt together ; 
but the final concerted movement ought never to be 
dispensed with. In classes of any size, it is the only 
way to bring the scholars into any real exercise of 
the voice under the teacher's correction, for no 
amount of time will suffice to allow every pupil in his 
turn to utter separately all the sounds required for the 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

due training of the voice. In the earlier stages of 
this training, the pupils will also be found to speak 
out far more boldly and correctly in concert, than 
they can be made to do alone. When they have 
arrived at that stage at which reading forms part of 
their employment, they will also be obliged by it to 
keep time, in other words to mind their stops, much 
better than they otherwise could be. A little prac- 
tice on the part of the teacher will enable him to cor- 
rect quite as effectually any error made by individ- 
uals, under this system, as under the other. 

For the sake of giving variety and interest to this 
process of elementary drilling, it may be well to re- 
lieve it somewhat with reading, almost from the be- 
ginning. The pieces given in this book may serve 
as a first selection. They are of very different char- 
acters, selected to exemplify all, or nearly all, the 
different species of reading. It is not intended that 
the scholars should merely read them through, in the 
ordinary fashion of schools. This exercise, like all 
the others, must be thoroughly practised. Attention 
should always be especially paid to those points to 
which the other exercises of the class for the time 
being refer, whether it be to the rightly sounding all 
the vocal elements, or to the use of pitch, accent, or 
any other of the elements of expression. When the 
class have gone through all, or the greater part, of 
their regular drilling on these several elements, they 
ought to be exercised with even greater care in their 
readings. Every sentence should then be separately 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

analyzed, and the scholars should be required to say 
what intonation they think the precise idea to be con- 
veyed demands. When this point is decided, let 
the sentence be read, and repeated till its intonation 
has become familiar ; and then, when every sentence 
in the piece has been thus gone over, the whole may 
be taken up together with advantage. The old mode 
of school reading and declaiming is perhaps worse 
than useless. 

In all these exercises, whether on the elements and 
their combinations, or on the reading of sentences, 
it is important that the teacher should lead the class 
in every step of their progress, by repeating or read- 
ing whatever he requires of them, before calling upon 
them to do it. This he must continue to do, till he 
finds them fully competent to perform their exercises 
without his leading. The farther he can place him- 
self from his class during their exercises, the more 
complete will be the effect of the exercises in giving 
clearness and distinctness to the pupils' utterance. 

On these principles the author of this little work 
has uniformly conducted his instruction. Perhaps 
he may be authorized, without undue presumption, 
to recommend the adoption of his course to others. 



INTRODUCTION 



GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION 



CHAPTER I. 

ON THE VOCAL ELEMENTS. 

By the word element we mean anything which 
cannot be subdivided. Thus, in chemistry, any sub- 
stance which is simple, and cannot be divided into 
others, is called an element. 

In Elocution we mean by elements, sounds, or 
qualities of sound, which we cannot divide or render 
simpler. These are of different kinds. There are 
the simple sounds, of which words are made up, and 
which we call vocal elements ; and there are also those 
simple sounds, or qualities of sound, by which ex- 
pression or meaning is given to our words, and which 
are called the elements of expression. 

The first kind of elements are those which we call 
the vocal elements. In order to speak well, it is 
first of all necessary to pronounce correctly. Now 
there is only one effectual way of learning to pro- 
nounce distinctly every word in a language ; and that 
is, to acquire by practice the power of giving every 
2° 



26. VOCAL ELEMENTS. 

simple sound, of which these words may be made 
up. 

Suppose we take the word < matter,' to explain 
what we mean by these simple sounds.. Most per- 
sons perhaps would think it was made up of only two 
sounds — ' mat, 5 and c er.' These, however, are not 
either of them simple sounds, because, as may be 
easily shown, they can be themselves divided. In 
the syllable c mat,' the first sound heard is ' m,' pro- 
duced by closing the lips in a particular manner ; the 
second is that of £ a ' in the word e a-t :' the third is 
that of c t ' in the word c t-ake.' Tn the second syl- 
lable, c er,' we have two sounds, c e,' as in the word 
4 u-nder,' and c r ' as in the word ' oa-r.' 

In this word it so happens that the vocal elements 
are almost the same in number with the letters. This 
is not, however, always the case. In the word 
4 straight,' the vocal elements are l s ' (as in ' hi-ss '), 
4 t,' 4 r,' (as in 4 r-ow '), 4 a ' (as in ' a-le'), and * t '. 
The letters c igh ' have no corresponding sounds. 

The same letter in different words often stands for 
very different vocal elements. The sounds heard at 
the beginning of the words, 4 a-le,' c a-ll,' ' a-rm,' and 
4 a-t,' are all represented by the letter £ a.' In like 
manner, one element is often represented by differ- 
ent letters. The sound at the beginning of the 
words, 4 ea-rl,' 4 1-rving,' and' u-nder,' is exactly 
the same, though it is written in three different ways. 
In a perfect alphabet, every sound would have its 
own letter, and every letter its own sound ; but as 
ours is not a perfect alphabet, we must be content 
.to remember the difference between a vocal element, 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 27 

or simple sound, and an alphabetic element, or 
letter. 

If now we look back again to the first example, 
4 mat,' we shall see that the three elements which 
compose it are very unlike one another. The sound 
' a ' is made with the mouth and throat open, and 
may therefore be pronounced as loud and full as the 
voice will admit. The element c m ' has the lips 
closed, and the sound confined. We cannot give it 
as much force or fulness as the other. The last ele- 
ment, c t, 1 has a sound like that which we should use 
in whispering either of the others* 

Those elements, which like c a ' may be sounded 
with the mouth and throat entirely open, are called 
4 tonic elements.' The alphabetic elements, or let- 
ters, used to represent them, are called ' vowels.' 

Those elements, which like ' m ' are sounded with 
any part of the mouth closed, are called c subtonics. 7 
Those which like ' t ' have in addition the whisper- 
ing sound, are called 'atonies.' The subtonic and 
atonic elements are represented by those letters which 
we call consonants. 

The tonic elements us.ed in the English language 
are 14 in number. Of these, 8 may be sounded long, 
the other 6 must be pronounced short. 

The 8 long tonics are, 
as in the words ee-l, m-e, ea-t, bel-ie-ve 

oo-ze, m-o-ve, tr-ne, 1-w-te 
a-le, ai-r, pr-ay 
a-\\, \-au-d, 1-o-rd, aiv-ful 
a-rm, 1-aw-nch, a-fter 
0-ldj n-o, oa-k, ow-n 
<ou-r, v-ow » [st-j/e 

S i, i^sie, 1-ie, th-t/-me, beautif-y, 



1 


ee, 


2 


00, 


3 


a, 


4 


a', 


5 


a", 


■6 


o, 


7 


ou, 



28 VOCAL ELEMENTS. 

The six short tonics are, 

1 i', as in the words i-t, w-t-11, beaut-t/ 

2 u, p-u-U, f-oo-t, w-o-lf 

3 e, e-6ge, m-e-t, h-ea-d 

4 o', o-bject, n-o-t, o-live 

5 a"', a-t, m-a-n [u-nder, mann-a 

6 e', h-e-r, h-ea-rd, f-t-rm, w-o-rd 

It may be observed that the first four of the long 
tonics answer very nearly, if not exactly, to the first 
four of the short ones. The word c eat,' (ee-t) short- 
ened, becomes c it,' (*'-t). The sound of c ooze' 
(oo-z) becomes that of ' foot,' (f-w-t) ; c age ' (a-dzh) 
is changed to ' edge,' (e-dzh), and ' all ' («'-l) into 
<ol,' (o'-l). 

Of the eight long tonics, only two are really mo- 
nothongs, i. e. only two end with the same sound as 
that on which they begin. These two are placed at 
the head of the list ; ' ee ' and ' oo.' 

The other six are diphthongs ; i. e. they begin on 
one sound, and end on another ; thus, 

a and i end on the sound ee 
a a" " " e' 

o ou " " 00 

These diphthongal elements are to be distinguished 
from the diphthongs, as they are commonly reckoned 
in grammar. They consist, it is true, of two sounds ; 
but then the first of them cannot be given without the 
second, though the second may be sounded apart 
from the first. The sounds 'ay,' c oy,' or c eu,'.as 
in 'feudal,' (f-eu-dal) which might be called diph- 
thongs in grammar, are not to be so considered in 
elocution, because they consist each of them of two 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 29 

perfectly distinct sounds, either of which may be 
sounded by itself. Thus, c ay ' is made up of a" and 
i', < oy ' of o' and i' and ' eu ' of i' and oo. 

The subtonic elements are 15 in number. 

1 b. as in the words &-old, b-u\-b, El-6e 

2 d, d-are, ha-d 

3 g, g-ive, ha-g 

4 1, l-ow, a-ll 

5 m, wi-ine, ai-m 

6 n, n-ot, ow-n 



7 



ng, si-wg 



8 r, ai-r, oa-r 

9 r', r-ow, r-uin, b-r-ow 

10 v } i'-ow, sa-re, \i-ve, p/z-ial 

11 w*, w-ot, w-ent. 

12 y, y-et [X-erxes 

13 z, z-one, ha-^e, songs, rai-se 3 

14 th, th-en, soo-the. smoo-th 

15 zh, a-z-ure, preci-si-on 

The atonic elements are 9 in number. 

1 p. | as in the words p-u\\, ha-p, a-pe 

2 t. f-ake, sa-t, \a-te 

3 k, fc-ind, loo-k, c-ow, a-che, \o-ck 

4 f, /-ace, i-f, o-ff, ph-ysic, lau-g/t 

5 wh, ivh-at, ivh-en 

6 h, h-it, h-orse 

7 s, s-aw, hi-ss, era-se 

* These two subtonic elements, w and ?/ 5 can scarcely be distin- 
guished in sound from the tonic elements, u and i'. Perhaps they 
are really nothing more than the very shortest possible sound that 
can be given to those elements. 

t The three atonic elements, p, t, and k, cannot be uttered audi- 
bly by themselves. They will require some other element to be 
sounded with them, j?-i, 1-p, t-s, aJ"t-, k-\, \-k, o'-k. It does not 
signify whether the other element be a tonic, a subtonic, or even 
any other atonic. The union of any other element will enable us 
to sound them clearly enough. 



30 VOCAL ELEMENTS. 

8 th', th-ink, eav-th [ous, na-fi-on 

9 sh, sh-ake, harsh, o-ce-an, gra-ct- 

There are several combinations of these elements 
which may be easily mistaken for simple sounds; 
e. g. 

The combination d-zh in the words j-oy, a-ge, stran-ge 
t-sh ch-UY-ch, ch-ance 

g-z e-#-ample, e-x-empt 

k-s, xe-x, ta-# 

k-w qu-een, (/w-antity 

The pupils must be exercised in repeating all these 
elements separately, as well as in the words in 
which they are exhibited, until each of them can be 
sounded correctly and with ease. After this prac- 
tice is completed, let them proceed to the following 
tables. The first contains a number of words which 
from some cause or other are frequently mispronoun- 
ced. These should be all gone over very carefully, 
the pupils being required to sound all the vocal ele- 
ments which every successive word contains ; or, in 
other language, to spell out, not the letters, but the 
elements of which it is made up. When the right 
spelling has been given, let the whole class be re- 
quired to sound the word, the teacher stopping and 
correcting any who may pronounce it wrong. A 
good many of the words at the beginning of the table 
are spelt in their elements, to serve as an example 
of what is to be done with the others. 

The second table contains all or most of the com- 
binations of the subtonic and atonic elements admis- 
sible in the English language. These must be gone 
over in the same manner ; the class first sounding 
after the teacher each of the component elements by 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 31 

itself, then the combination as written in the first col- 
umn, and last of all, the word or words given to ex- 
emplify its use. The third table contains a number 
of sentences of difficult utterance. These also must 
be read with the same care, until the whole class can 
repeat them all, without apparent effort, and without 
mistake or hesitation. 

The importance of attaining a complete command 
over the use of the vocal elements is so great, that 
no part of these exercises must, on any account, be 
omitted. It will be well, however, in order to re- 
lieve the tedium of too great sameness of repetition, 
to diversify, as much as may be found convenient, 
the practice of the different tables with one another. 



TABLE I. 


God 


g-o'-d # 


Lord 


l-a'-r-d 


wants 


w-o'-n-t-s 


orbs 


a'-r-h-z 


offal 


o'-f-e'-l 


awful 


a'-f-u-l 


nostril 


n-o'-s-t-r'-i'-l 


whelmed 


wh-e-Z-m-cZ 


delft 


d-e-l-f-t 


bulb'd 


b-e'-l-b-d 


bulbs 


b-e'-l-b-z 


strength 


s-t-r -e-ng-th' 


stretch 


s-t-r' -e-t-sh 


stretch'd 


s-t-r' -e-t-sh-t 


offering 


o'-f-e'-r'-i'-ng 


thumbscrew 


iti-e'-m-s-Jc-r'-oo 


whisps 


wh-i'-s-p-$ 


rhythm 


r'-i'-th'-m 



* The elements marked in italics are those which are most likely 
to be left out or mistaken. 



32 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 



Table I. — Continued. 



christmas 


k-r'-i'-s-m-e'-s 


terrible 


i-e-r'-i-b-l 


impossible 


i'-m-p-o'-s-i'-fr-Z 


wafts 


w-a"-f-t-s 


attempts 


a'"-t-e-m-p-t-s 


traitor 


J-r'-a-t-e'-r 


pray 


p-r-a. 


wreath 'd 


Y-ee-th-d 


wreaths 


Y-ee-tti-s 


sprightly 


s-p-/-i-t-l-i' 


through 


th'-r'-oo 


filch 


r-i-uh 


amiable 


a-m-i'-e'-&-Z 


brow 


6-r'-ou 


scream 


s-A>r'-ee-m 


screech-owl 


s-Jc-r' -ee-t-sh-ou-l 


breadths 


b-r -e-d-tli 's 


hedged 


h-e-d-zh-d 


bulge 


snail 


fall'st 


urged 


false 


Humphrey 


entombed 


capable 


hang'd 


respectable 


songs 


example 


harp'd 


apple 


bursts 


trumpet 


search'd 


triumph 


thistle 


burnt 


thorough 


misrule 


swerved 


sub-prior 


swivel 


thanksgiving 


travels 


uproar 


muzzle 


dravvler 


spasms 


swamps 


fetch 'd 


vex'd 


masks 


troublesome. 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 



33 



TABLE II. 

sob-b'd, pro-6 'dst 

a-ble, trou-bVd, disa-bl' d'st^am-bUs, 

trou-bVst 
br-ow, frr-and, 6r-eastplate 
ro-6es, ro-6s 

a-6s-tract, so-b'st, pro-6'sf 
can-die, han-dUd, fon-dUd'st, 

a-ddles, va-ddVst 
dr-ive, dr-ought, dr-aft 
a-dze, dee-ds, po-ds 

he-dge, \o-dg'd, do-dg'd'st 

a-dd'st, ha-dsi, sai-dst 
brea-dth, wi-dths 
bag-ged, brag-g'd'st 
gZ-isten, man-gVd, hag-gVd'st, 

o-gles, bog-gVst 
gr-ove, gr-oat, gr-ot 
pi-gs, fo-gs, \a-gs 
wag-g'st, brag-g'st 
E-Z6e, bu-lb'd, bu-lbs 
he-Id, ho-lds 
bu-lge, bi-lged 
so-ld'st, he-ld'st 
e-lm, whe-lm'd, whe-lm'd'st^ea-lms, 

unhe-lm'st 
fal-Z'n, swol-'w 
she-lve, de-lv'd, de-l'v'dst, she-lves, 

de-lv'st 
ee-ls, yo-IIs, te-lls 
whe-/p, he-lp'd, he-lp'd'st, A-lps, 

he-lp'st 
sa-U, merits, ha-lt'st 
si-Ik, mi-Ik' d, mu-lcts, mu-IcVst, 

mi-lk'd'st 
e-Iks, mi-Ik' st 
sh-elf, de-lft, e-lf's 

* It has been attempted in this table to express the singleness of 
the elements ng, th, zh, th' and sh, by printing them in Italics, 
3 



Bd, bdst 
bl, bid, bldst, ; 
biz, blst ' 
br' 
bz 

bs, bst 
Dl, did, didst, 

dlz, dlst 
dr' 
dz 

dzh* dzhd, ) 
dzhdst $ 
dst 

dth', dth's 
Gd, gdst 
gl, gld, gldst, > 

glz, gist J 

g r ' 

g z 

gst 

Lb, lbd, lbz 
Id, ldz 

\dzh, \dzhd 
ldst 
lm, Imd, lmdst > 
lrnz, lmst ) 
In 

lv, lvd, lvdst ) 
lvz, lvst $ 
lz 

]p, lpt, lptst, > 
lps, lpst 3 
It, Its, ltst 
Ik, lkt, lkts, lktst 

Iks, lkst 
If, 1ft, lfs 



34 



VOCAL ELEMENTS, 



Table II. — Continued. 



Is, 1st fa-foe, fe-Wst, ca-lVst 

\tti , Ith's wea-lth, hea-tths 

hh, \sht, \shtst fi-lch, fi-lch'd, fi-lch'd'st 

Md, mdst la-m'd, ento-mb'd, emba-hn'd'st 

mz to-mbs, ta-mes, fli-ms-y 

mp, mpt, mptst ) \a.-m,p,\i-mp'd,a.tte-mpVst,shri-mps\ 

mps, mpst ) li-mp'st 

mf, mft, mftst, 5 \y-mph, triu-mph'd, triu-mph'd'st, 

mfs, mfst ) triu-mphs, triu-mph'st 

mst hum-m'sf, ento-m&'s£ 

Nd, ndz a-nd, ow-n'd, se-nds 

ndzh, ndzhd, ) , , , , , ,, 

ndzhdst I str3 -' n S e > lou-n^'d, estia-ng'd'sl 

ndst wi-nd'st, sou-nd'st 

nz, nzd, nzdst ti-ns, clea-ns'd, clea-ws'cTs£ 

nt, nts, ntst se-nt, hu-nts, pa-nt'st 

nst wi-nc'd 

ns/fc, ns/it fli-rcc/i, mu-?ic/t'd, lu-wc/t'd 

•TVgxl, ngdst h-d-ng'd, ba-ng'd'st, 

ngz si-ngs, lo-ngs 

ngk, ngkt, ngktst ) thi-nk, \i-nk'd, Yi-nk'd'st, tha-nks. 

ngks, ngkst $ si-nk'st 

ng-th', ng-th's stre-ngth, \e-ngths 

Rb, rbd, rbdst > cu-r6, ba-rb'd, ba-rb'd'st, he-rbs. 

rbz, rbst ) ba-rb'st 

rd, rdz ba-rd, hc-rds 

rdzh, rdzhd > , ,, , ,. 

vdzhdst J su " r ff c » enla-rg'd, u-rg'd'rf 

rdst hea-r'd'sJ, e-rr'd'st 

rg, rgz bu-rg"&, bu-rg7i$ 

rl, rid, rldst, > fu-rZ, sna-r/'d, hu-r/'d's*, cu-r/s,. 

rlz, rlst J sna-rZ'sJ 

rm, rmd, rmdst ) a-rm, ha-rm'd, a-rm'd'st, a-rms. 

rmz, rmst ) a-rm'st 

rn, rnd, rndst > u-rn, bu-rn'd, ea« -.n'd'st, bu-rns, 

mz, mst J lea-rn's* 

rv, rvd, rvdst > cu-rve, ae-rv'd, ca-rv'd'st, cu-rves } 

rvz, rvst 5 se-rv's* 

rz oa-rs, e-rrs, lia-r5 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 35 



Table II. — Continued. 



rp, rpt, rptst, ) ha-rp-y ,\va.-rp , d,ha-rpd's , t,sha.-rps , 

rps, rpst ) ca-rp'st 

rt, rts, rtst di-rt, pa-rts, hu-rt'st 

TS '//it t S P°" rc ^? sea-rch'd, sea-rch'd'st 

rk, rkt, rktst ) \a-rk, ba-rk'd, lu-rk'd'st, a-rcs, 

rks, rkst ) ba-r&'s* 
rf, rft, rftst, ) su-r/, wha-j/'d, wha-j/'d'sf, se-r/s, 

rfs, rfst ) wha-rf's* 

ts, rst, rsts ho-rse, fea-r's£, bu-rsts 
rtfi, xth'i, xth'tst, > fo-rth, unea-rth'd, unea-rth'd' st, 

vth's, rth'st ) ea-rths, unea-rth'st 

rsh ha-rsh 

Vd, vdst ca-v'd, \[-v'd'st 

vl, vld, vldst > swi-vel, mar-vel'd, dxi-vel'd'st^-vils, 

viz, vlst ) dri-vel'st 

vn, vnd, vndst > dvi-ven, lea-ven'd, lea-ven'd'st, hea- 

vnz, vnst ) vens, en-\i-ven'st 

vz \i-ves, dro-ves 

vst di-v' st, \o-v'st 

Zd, zdst oo-z'd, p\ea-s'd'st 

zl, zld, zldst > ha-zel, puz-zl'd, muz-zl'd'st, tea- 

zlz, zlst 5 s/es, puz-z/'s£ 

zm, zmz prism, spa-sms, 

zn, znd, zndst > poi-son, impri-son'd,poi-sow'd's£poi- 

znz, znst ) so-ns, impvi-son'st 

Thd, thdst brea-th'd, soo-th'd'st 

thn hea-then 

thz, thst, soo-thes, brea-th'st 

PI, pld, pldst > sup-pie, rip-pl'd cou-pl'd'st, ap-ples, 

plz, plst J cou-pVst 

pn, pnd, pndst > hap-^en, hap-pen'd, hap-pen'd'st, 

pnz,pst 5 hap-pens, shar-pen'st 

pr' pr-ay, im-pr-int 

pt, ptst iop-p'd, \ea-p'd'st 

ps, pst si-ps, c\ip-pst 

Tl, tld, tldst > \it-tle, ti-tl'd, set-tl'd'st, shut-to, 

tlz, tlst } bat-tl'st 

it tr-aitor, por-tr-ay 



36 VOCAL ELEMENTS. 



Table II. — Continued. 

ts, tst ha-ts, sit-'sf, let-'st 

tsh, tsht, ts/itst mu-ch, fe-tch'd, fe-tch'd'st 

Kl, kid, kldst > un-cZe, specta-cZ'd, tx\x-ckVd 9 st 9 

klz, klst ) mana-c/es, tru-ckPst 

kn, knd, kndst > oa-ken, sl-cken'd, bla-cken'd'st. bea- 

knz, knst ) cons, bla-cken'st 

kr' cr-aven, cr-ater 

kt, ktst su-ck'd, ha-ck'd'st 

ks, kst li-cks, pa-ck'st 

FI, lid, fldst > snaf-^e, muf/TcZ, tri-fl' d'st, tri-fles, 

flz, fist J tri-yZ'sf 

fn, fnd, fndst > sti£fen 3 \tou-ghen'd 9 stif^/en'd'sf,stif- 

fnz, fnst J /ews, stif-/en's£ 

fr' /^-iar, /r-etful 

ft, fts, ftst sir/*, lo-/fe, wa-ft'st 

fs, fst cli-jfs, sco-ff' st 

SI, sld, sldst > slaughter, whisWd, whistl'd'st, 

slz, slst 5 tressles, nestl'st 

sm sm-oke, black-sm-ith 

sn, snd, sndst > sn-ail, listen'd, hasten' d'st, lessons, 

snz, snst ) lessen'st 

sp, spt, sptst > wasp, li-sp'dj claspd'st, whisps, 

sps, spst J lisp'st 

st, str', sts st-ave, str-ong, lists 

sk, skt, sktst > ta-s&, whi-s«*d, ask'd'st, desks, 

sks, skst J mask'st 

Th'm, th'x y th's ry-thm, //ir-oughout, hea-ths 

Sht, shtst pu-s/i'd, lash'd'st 



TABLE III. 

Whilst* bloody treason flourished over us. 
The breadth thereof was ten cubits. 
Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven. 

* Those words are printed in italics which are most frequently 
mispronounced. 



VOCAL ELEMENTS. 



37 



Table III — Continued. 

Thou look'st from thy throne in the clouds and laugh' st 
at the storm. 

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide. 

When shall we venture to tell what was whispered to 
us? 

Whence and what art thou, execrable shape? 

The short and simple annals of the poor. 

Hold off your hands, gentlemen. 

His attempts were fruitless. 

O'erwlielm'd with whirlwinds. 

Up the high hill he heaves the huge round stone. 

The dogs barked and howVd. 

The word filch is of doubtful derivation. 

He was hedged in on every side. 

The acts of the Apostles. 

Can you say crackers, crime, cruelty, crutches! 

The heights, depths, and breadths of the subject. 

Search the scriptures. 

Can you whet a wet razor? 

We saw on the road large droves of cattle. 

It was the act, of all the acts of government the most 
o6jedi<ma&Ze. 

A frame of adamant. 

The attempt, and not the deed, confounds us. 

Do you mean p/ain or playing cards? 

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears the palm. 

She swore, in faith Hwas strange, 'twas wondrous 
strange, 't was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful. 

Boundless, endless, and sublime! 

Mark'st thou ? 

Your healths, gentlemen. 

Round the rude ring the ragged rascal ran. 

And on their hinges grate harsh thunder. 

It is more formidable than the most clamorous oppo- 
sition. 

How came the posterns so easily opened! 

Yet who would have expected an ambush! 

He turned to the south side of the scaffold and said — 
3* 



38 VOCAL ELEMENTS. 

Table III — Continued. 

When overtaken, he struggled desperately with the 
officers. 

Music, and Poetry, and Sculpture. 

What wouWst thou! 

He proposed an amicable adjustment of all difficulties. 

Heart and hand he gave in his adhesion to the enter- 
prize. 

Her brov) was bound with a broad band braided for 
the purpose. 

He was an amiable and respectable man, incapable of 
using the questionable expressions attributed to him. 

Can you spell ivords of seven syllables! 

With what thou else calVst thine. 

His speech was composed of mono-syllables. 

His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two 
bushels of chaff. 

Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

A sailor's wife had chesnuts in her lap, and munched, 
and munched, and munched. 

What do you read, my Lord! Words, words, words. 

I'll tell him to his teeth, "Thus did'st thou." 

Three times three. 

Parchment is made of sheep skins. 

He was fully persuaded that the project was feasible. 

A blue coat without a badge. 

Of a strange nature is the suit you follow. 

'Twill be recorded for a precedent. 

It is too true an evil. 

Let him have knowledge who 1 am. 

What an acknowledgement of the superiority of vir- 
tue! 

The strength of his nostrils is terrible. 

He snarls, but dares not bite. 

Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find 
none. 

Have you a copy of Smith's Thucydides! 

I thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of my 
thumb. 

Peter Piper picked a peck of pepper. 



ELEMENTS OF EXPRESSION. 39 

CHAPTER II. 

ON THE ELEMENTS OF EXPRESSION. 

We come now to the consideration of the second 
class of Elements. In order to speak well, some- 
thing more is wanted, than merely to sound the 
words distinctly. We must take care to give the 
meaning of the sentences exactly. 

It is possible to give very different meanings to 
the same words, by saying them in a different man- 
ner. Take the sentence, c Thou art the man.' We 
may make a plain sentence of these words, without 
any emphasis, or we may make any one of the words 
in it emphatic: c Thou art the man,' c Thou art 
the man,' &c. Again, we may make the sentence a 
question, ' Thou art the man?' and, as before, we 
may either make the whole question emphatic, or we 
may throw the emphasis on any of the words. 

Still further we may utter the sentence in a hur- 
ried and angry, or in a slow and solemn manner; 
with great force and violence, or in a sorrowful tone. 
We may give it in a loud voice, as though it were 
intended for every body to hear it, or in a low tone, 
as if it were a secret. These are a few only of the 
many meanings, which may be given to these four 
simple words, by the voice. A good reader, then, 
ought not only to be able to sound every word cor- 
rectly; he ought to know always the exact meaning 
of what he reads, and also how to give that meaning, 
when he knows it. 

It is the business of most of the following chap- 



40 ELEMENTS OF EXPRESSION. 

ters, to show how the different ways of using the 
voice give different meanings to our words. To 
do this, we must explain the second kind of Elements 
employed in Elocution, the ' Elements of Express- 
ion,' as they are called. 

These Elements of Expression are four in num- 
ber: 

I. Pitch, or the place in the musical scale, on 
which a syllable is sounded. Every sound has some 
place in the musical scale, either high or low. We 
all know of what consequence it is, to sound each 
syllable on the right note, in singing. It will be 
seen how important the right use of this element is 
in speaking also. 

II. Force, or the degree of loudness, with which 
we speak. We use, in speaking, very different de- 
grees of loudness, according to the expression we 
desire to give. For instance, in the sentence ' Out 
with you,' (said as one would say it to a dog), the 
word ' out ' has much more force given to it, than in 
the simple sentence, c He went out.' We shall see 
also that there are several different kinds of force 
required for particular purposes. 

III. Quantity, or the degree of time taken up 
in uttering a syllable. How very different the words 
e Our Father, who art in heaven, sound when utter- 
ed slowly, as they ought to be, from what they would 
if sounded lightly and quickly, 4 Our Father, &c.' 
This difference is made by the use of Quantity. 

IV. Quality, or the kind of voice we use in 
speaking. We may speak, for instance, in a hoarse, 



CONCRETE AND RADICAL PITCH. 41 

gruff tone, or in a mild voice, in a whisper, or in the 
common tone of conversation. 

On every syllable we utter, we give more or less 
of each one of these four elements of expression. 
Every syllable must have some place, higher or low- 
er, in the musical scale, must be sounded with more 
or less force, must take up more or less time in its 
utterance, and must be sounded with some one qual- 
ity of voice. We shall now proceed to show, that 
all the varieties of expression, which can be given 
by the voice, are produced by the different combin- 
ations of these Elements. 



CHAPTER III. 

ON PITCH— CONCRETE AND RADICAL. 

The first of the Elements of Expression, then, 
is Pitch, or the place in the musical scale, which 
each sound made in speaking occupies. It is easier 
to understand what is meant by pitch, in singing, 
than it is in speaking. The distinction between the 
two has to be first explained. 

If you should strike several of the keys of an or- 
gan, in succession, your ear would directly tell you 
that one was higher than another ; and, also, that 
each key continued to give the same musical sound, 
all the while it was held down. 

If, on the other hand, you should take up a violin, 
and draw your finger along, up any one of the strings, 



42 CONCRETE AND RADICAL PITCH. 

at the same time that you were drawing the bow 
across it, you would find that the sound given does not 
continue the same from beginning to end, but keeps 
gradually rising higher and higher. In the same way, 
by moving your finger down the string, while the 
bow is passing over it, you make a similar mewing 
sound, beginning high, and becoming gradually lower. 

The difference between the notes of the organ, 
is said to be a difference in ' discrete, or radical 
pitch: ' that between the beginning and end of the 
mewing sound on the violin, is called a difference in 
4 concrete pitch,' or c slide." 

When we want to sing, we need only attend to 
differences in discrete or radical pitch; for, however 
long we sound a note in singing, it always remains 
the same in its musical sound,* like the note of the 
organ. When we speak, however, this is not the 
case. 

Take the two words c I wo 'n't,' and say them 
with the passionate intonation of an angry child, c I 
Wo 'n't.' Any person who has a good ear for music, 
will perceive two things in regard to the pitch of 
these words. First, the word ' wo'n't ' begins at a 
higher place in the scale, than the word ' I; ' or, in 
other language, there is a difference in c radical 
pitch ' between them, just as there is a difference be- 

* This explanation, though not in perfect accordance with Dr. 
Rush's beautiful and correct analysis of the singing voice, comes 
near enough for the purpose of elementary instruction. A more 
precise account of the nature of song, would probably be altogether 
unintelligible to children, 



OCNCRETE AND RADICAL PITCH. 43 

tween two keys of a piano. Secondly, the word 
'wo'n't,' instead of running on, all the while it is 
sounded, on the same note, like the organ, runs 
down a good way in the musical scale, between the 
beginning and the end, with a sound like that made, 
as we have said, on the violin. In other words, be- 
tween the beginning and the end of the word, there 
is a manifest difference in ' concrete pitch,' or ' slide.' 
The same thing may be seen by sounding, with the 
same expression, the words 'you Can't, 5 'he 
Ought,' < I May,' &c. 

We have then to attend to both these kinds of 
pitch, as elements of expression. In the first place, 
we must show what differences in concrete pitch are 
made in speech, and what differences of meaning they 
give to the words; and, in the second place, we must 
show the same things in regard to discrete pitch. 

Great care must be taken, however, before pro- 
ceeding further, that every pupil clearly understands 
the distinction between the two kinds of pitch. Un- 
less he perfectly understands this, at the outset, the 
succeeding explanations will be wholly useless. 
Concrete pitch, or slide, refers to the difference of 
pitch between the beginning and end of the same 
sound or syllable, as in the words ' wo'n't,' ' can't, 
4 ought,' c may,' in the examples given. Discrete, 
or radical, pitch refers to the difference of pitch, 
between the beginning of one sound or syllable and 
that of another, as between the words ' I ' and 
L won't,' &c. in the examples. 



44 CONCRETE PITCH. 

CHAPTER IV. 

ON CONCRETE PITCH, OR SLIDE. 

SIMPLE SLIDES OF THE VOICE. 

Having thus explained the distinction between 
the two kinds of pitch used in speaking, we proceed 
now to explain each of them separately. And first, 
for the uses of concrete pitch, or slide, as an ele- 
ment of expression. 

In the last chapter, it was stated that when we 
sing, the voice continues for some time on one note, 
and then passes, through a longer or shorter interval 
of discrete pitch, to another. There is, in learning 
to sing, no need of attending, at all, to concrete 
pitch, because no such movement of the voice is 
required to be used in it. But in speaking, as was 
shown in the examples given, this is not the case. 

We may now go a little further than we went in 
the last chapter. Very careful observations, made 
by persons having what is called a very fine ear for 
music, have shown that the voice goes through some 
interval or other of concrete pitch, on every syllable 
which is uttered in speech. This may, perhaps, 
be thought strange at first by some, but it has been 
proved beyond a doubt, by those who have made ex- 
periments on the subject. 

Take a sentence, < I am coming to see you to- 
day,' for example, and let the whole sentence or any 
number of the words in it, be first sung, and then 



CONCRETE PITCH. 45 

spoken, taking care not to drawl them at all in trying 
to speak them. It will be seen that there is a great 
difference, between the sound of any one of the syl- 
lables when spoken, and that of the same syllable 
when sung. This difference is produced by the use 
of concrete pitch. 

Now, let the same sentence be repeated, just as 
one naturally would in common conversation, but 
with a pause after the word ' see,' as if the speaker 

was interrupted; ' I am coming to see . ' The 

word ' see ' has, in such a case, a very peculiar in- 
tonation, one which no one can mistake. It makes 
any one who hears it, feel directly, that something 
more is to be said. The same intonation will be 
heard on any other of the words of the sentence, by 
making the sudden pause after it. ' I — ,' ' I am 
com — ,' ' I am coming to — , &c.' 

This peculiar expression was found, by Dr. Rush, 
to depend on the use of concrete pitch. He dis- 
covered, by several experiments, that the voice 
rises, or slides upwards a certain small distance, (or 
4 interval,' as it is called,) in concrete pitch, between 
the beginning and the end of the syllable. This 
small interval is the same with what we call, in music, 
1 a tone.' The slide he therefore named l the up- 
ward slide of the tone.' 

The upward slide of the tone is used en all the 
unemphatic syllables in speaking, which have other 
syllables to come directly after them. It may be 
made apparent, by stopping suddenly, as if interrupt- 
ed, after any one of them. When the syllables fol- 
low one another without interruption, we do not 
4 



46 CONCRETE PITCH. 

commonly notice it; but, as will soon be seen, it is 
of great consequence to make it rightly, in all those 
cases in which it ought to be given. 

Let the same sentence be now repeated in the 
same manner, to the end. ( I am coming to see you 
to-day.' The last syllable, c day,' has an intonation 
quite different from that which we have just shown 
the other syllables to have. We feel, as soon as it 
is uttered, that there is no other word to come after 
it, and that the sense of the passage is complete. 
The same intonation may be given to any other one 
of the syllables, if we make it the end of the sen- 
tence. C I am come.' C I am coming.' 'I am 
coming to see you.' &c. Where, as in the former 
case, we stopped short, as if interrupted, the into- 
nation at once led us to expect the continuation of 
the sentence; but here, where the sentence is sup- 
posed to be ended, the intonation does not lead us 
to listen for any thing further. In this case, the slide 
made on the syllable, has been ascertained to be ' the 
downward slide of the tone; ' or, in other words, 
the voice slides downward in concrete pitch, just 
as far as, in the former case, it was found to slide 
upwards. 

The downward slide of the tone, then, is used on 
all unemphatic syllables, which come at the end of a 
clause, and require any pause after them. It may 
always be easily distinguished from the correspond- 
ing upward slide, by its expression. 

Let us now take the simple question, ' was it you? ' 
and repeat it without any more emphasis on the word 
c you,' than is required to make the sentence sound 



/ 



CONCRETE PITCH. 47 

as a question. There is, in this case, a peculiar in- 
tonation on the syllable c you,' giving it the natural 
expression of a question. This may be proved in a 
moment by repeating the word c you ?'. alone. It 
is quite as easy to make the single word sound like 
a question, as it is to make the sentence a question. 
This expression of the simple question, is made by 
the use of an upward slide of the voice, through a 
distance or interval about twice as long as the one 
before explained. This slide is called, from the mu- 
sical name of the interval through which it passes, 
' the upward slide of the third. ' 

Repeat the answer to this question, i It was /; ' 
giving to the word ' I ' that moderate degree of em- 
phasis, which will mark it out as the answer to a 
question; and it will be seen that its expression, 
even when it is repeated by itself, is different from 
that of any of the slides already mentioned. c /. ' 
The slide which gives it this expression, is the 
downward slide, corresponding to the preceding up- 
ward one. It is called ' the downward slide of the 
third.' 

If, now, the question be repeated, with more of 
earnestness and surprise than before, ' was it you? ' 
the slide upwards on the word ' you ' will be readily 
perceived to be longer than before : it is, in fact, 
nearly twice as long. It is ascertained to pass 
through the interval, called, in music, a fifth, and is 
therefore called ' the upward slide of the fifth.' 

Let the answer to this second question be now 
repeated, of course with a greater degree of em- 
phasis than before, ' It was I.' We have now 



48 CONCRETE PITCH. 

a downward slide on the word ' 1/ equal in 
length to the upward slide made in the question. It 
is called the c downward slide of the fifth.' 

Suppose, however, that the person who had twice 
repeated the question, were to repeat it yet a third 
time, as if expressing the utmost possible doubt of 
the answer, and intending to contradict it; c ■s , OU ?r 
The upward slide would, in this case, be much more 
piercing than before. It has been found to run up 
through what is called, in music, an octave. We 
call it, therefore, c the upward slide of the octave/ 

In the same manner, if we repeat the natural answer 
to this third question, c i,' we shall have a slide, be- 
ginning on a high note in the scale, and running down 
to a very low one. This slide is also found to pass 
through an octave, and is called ' the downward slide 
of the octave.' 

These slides of the octave are hardly ever used, 
except in conversation, or in acting. They are too 
violent and passionate for common reading or speak- 
ing. Still, it is well to know them, and to acquire 
the power of sounding them correctly, whenever 
they may be required. 

There remains still one other interval of concrete 
pitch, through which the voice sometimes passes. 
It is only about half the length of the tone, and is 
called in music, the semitone. To explain it, let the 
sentence c I will be a good boy, 5 be repeated in the 
tone of a crying child, but without giving emphasis 
to any of the words in it. If, as in the first exam- 
ple given in this chapter, the sentence be interrupted 
before the end ( c I will — ,' c I will be a — ,' ' I will 



Concrete pitch. 49 

be a good — '), it will be observed that the last syl- 
lable uttered has a crying or plaintive expression, and 
also that it leaves us in expectation of something to 
follow it. This expression is produced by the voice 
sliding upwards through this very short interval of a 
semitone. The slide is called, therefore, ' the up- 
ward slide of the semitone.' If, on the other hand, 
the sentence be finished ( c I will be a good boy '), 
there will still be the crying or plaintive expression, 
but the feeling that the sentence is unfinished is no 
longer produced. This expression is the result of 
' the downward slide of the semitone,' on the word 
'boy.' 

The musical names are given to all these ten sim- 
ple slides (as they are called), merely to distinguish 
them from one another. It is not expected, that 
most pupils will be able to distinguish the semitone, 
tone, third, &c, as they are used in music. This is 
not at all necessary. All that need be done, is to 
show the expression of each slide. It will be easy 
always to distinguish them by this. Their musical 
character is, for practical purposes, of no impor- 
tance. 5 

These slides must all be practised on by the pupils 
till they can be made with perfect ease, and with un- 
varying success. For this purpose, it may be well 
to use the following tables. The first contains the 
eight long tonic elements, on which all the slides may 
be made with ease. The second consists of the six 
short tonic elements, to which, on account of the 
shortness of their sound, it is hard, if not impossi- 
ble, to give the long slide of the octave. These 
4* 



50 CONCRETE PITCH. 

two tables should be first taken up. Let the instructer 
sound each of these elements, as varied by the use of 
the ten slides, and the whole class repeat after him, the 
instructer taking care to note and correct all errors. 
This, after a little practice, will not be difficult. 
When all the slides can be well made on each of 
these elementary sounds, let the class proceed to a 
similar course of drilling on the third and fourth ta- 
bles, which consist of words, selected to afford them 
practice on long and short syllables respectively. 
The class should not relinquish this exercise till they 
are able, any one of them, to sound correctly and 
without effort, any slide that may be called for, and 
an any one of the elements or syllables. 

Tables for practice on the simple Slides. 

I. ee, oo, a, a', a", o, ou, i. 

II. i', u, e, o', a"', e'. 

III. all, old, fair, heal, dare, save, hail, thrive, 
you, I, he, hound. 

IV. gone, will, sit, out, ice, ought, past, done, 
ask, bite. 



CHAPTER V. 

CONCRETE PITCH— Continued. 

.COMPOUND SLIDES, OR WAVES. 

The last chapter has given an account of the simple 
.slides of the voice, as they are commonly used in 



CONCRETE PITCH. 51 

speech. We have now to consider a second kind of 
slides, called the compound slides, or waves. The 
slides mentioned in the last chapter have all of them 
only one direction, that is, they run either upwards or 
downwards, through a certain interval. In the com- 
pound slides, or waves, on the other hand, the voice 
slides, first in one direction, and then back again in 
the other. 

Let the sentence, £ Hull, holy light,' be repeated, 
giving to the word c hail ' the longest possible sound, 
unaccompanied with any thing like positive emphasis, 
and avoiding carefully all drawling on it, and it will be 
perceived, by a nice ear, that the voice first falls a little 
in concrete pitch, and then rises again through an 
equal interval. It is found to pass, in either direc- 
tion, through a musical tone. This wave is called l the 
indirect equal wave of the tone : ' indirect, because 
it terminates with a rising movement ; and equal, be- 
cause the interval passed through in one direction, is 
the same with that traversed in the other. 

Repeat in the same way, c All hail,' still avoiding 
all positive emphasis on the word c hail,' but length- 
ening out its sound, without drawling, and the voice 
will pass through the same wave, but in the opposite 
direction. It will first rise, and then fall, a tone. This 
is what is called ' the direct equal wave of the tone.' 
There is the same difference of expression between 
the two waves of the tone, as there was between the 
two simple slides of the tone. The indirect wave 
answers to the upward slide, in not finishing the clause, 
but requiring other words to follow it. The direct 



52 CONCRETE PITCH. 

wave answers to the downward slide, in always giv- 
ing the other expression. 

Let the question be imagined to be put, c you said 
Hail V If this sentence be repeated as a simple in- 
quiry, with the same long sound on ' hail' as before, 
the voice, instead of at once rising a third, (as in the 
example given in the last chapter, where the word 
'you' was sounded in its common or rather short way), 
will first fall a third, and then rise again to where it 
started. This is what we call ' the indirect equal 
wave of the third.' 

c I said, Hdil.'' Let this last word now have the 
emphasis naturally given, in the answer to such a 
question as the preceding, together with the same 
slow, serious utterance as before, and the voice will 
be found first to rise, and then to fall a third. This 
is an example of 'the direct equal wave of the third.' 
' You said, Hail ?' If the question be again repeat- 
ed with more surprise and emphasis, but still with the 
same long sound, there will be, on the word 'hail,' 
' the indirect equal wave of the fifth,' 

4 Yes, Hail.' In this answer, more positive than 
the former one, we shall hear ; the direct equal wave 
of the fifth.' 

In the same way, by again repeating the question 
and answer, with increased violence, we may make the 
' indirect,' and c direct equal waves of the octave ; ' 
but as, like the slides of the octave, these waves are 
scarcely ever used, except in conversation, they need 
hardly be practised on for speaking. 

The two equal waves of the semitone are easily ex- 



CONCRETE PITCH. 53 

plained. They correspond in expression with the 
slides of the semitone; that is, they are both plaintive 
in the expression, the indirect wave suspending the 
sense, and being used on words which are immediate- 
ly followed by others, the direct wave closing it, and 
coming therefore at the end. They may be easily ex- 
hibited, by uniting the plaintive expression with slow 
utterance. For instance, 

' Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.' 

Here the indirect equal wave of the semitone will 
fall on the words, c poor ' and L old.' 

4 1 will be a good boy.' 

Here the closing word, c boy, 'will exhibit the 
direct equal of the semitone. 

The ten preceding waves have all received the 
name of equal waves, from their ascending and de- 
scending parts being equal. But this is not the case 
in regard to all the waves that can be made. Wherev* 
er the two parts of a compound slide are unequal, it 
is said to be * an unequal wave. ' These unequal waves 
are, of course, very numerous; but as they have all 
of them very nearly the same expression, (that of con- 
tempt and ridicule,) it is not worth while to try to 
enumerate them, It is enough to state, that they 
become more strikingly emphatic, according as the 
intervals of concrete, pitch passed through, in either 
direction, are made longer. 

The question ' your friend ?', or the answer ' my 
friend,' may be made to exemplify this species of 



54 CONCRETE PITCH. 

wave, the intervals of piich employed in the waves 
being greater or less, according to the degree of scorn 
thrown into the utterance of the words 5 your ' and 
4 mine.' 

So, also, in the following example : — 

- Not think they'd shave?' qouth Hodge, with 
wond'ring eyes, 

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 
c What were they made for, then, you dog?' he cries — 

'Made? ' qouth the fellow, with a smile, ' to sell! ' 

Here the words ' shave,' ' made,' and ( sell,' will 
exhibit the unequal wave. 

Where, as on the word ' your ' (in the first exam- 
ple,) or on the words ( shave ' and ' made ' (in the 
second,) the expression of interrogation is to be given, 
the slide ends with an upward movement, and is called 
4 an inverted unequal wave;' whereas, on the other two 
words, ' my ' and ' self,' on which there is no inter- 
rogation, the slide ends by running downwards, and 
is called c the direct unequal wave.' 

Of course, a wave cannot be made on any really 
short syllable, as the only way of making it, consists in 
lengthening the syllables on which it is to be exhibited. 

These waves must all be practised on the two fol- 
lowing tables, in the same manner as was directed for 
the slides in the last chapter. 

TABLES. 

I. ee, oo, a, a', a", o, ou, i. 

II. save, all, old, fair, praise, wo, move, arm, roll. 



DISCRETE PITCH. 55 

CHAPTER VI 

ON DISCRETE OR RADICAL PITCH. 

In explaining what was meant by pitch, as an ele- 
ment of expression, it was shown that there were two 
kinds of pitch used in speaking, the first being the 
change of pitch or slide made between the begiuning 
and the end of each syllable, and the second being 
the pitch on which the beginning of successive syl- 
lables is made. The first of these two kinds of pitch 
has been explained in the two preceding chapters. 
We have now to consider the second. 

If we say,«s a pettish child would do, the words, 'I 
WON'T,' we shall notice that the second word begins 
a good deal higher than the first. This distance or in- 
terval between the two is much greater in this case, 
than it was between any two of the syllables in the ex- 
ample given in the fourth chapter,' I am coming to see 
you to-day.' We have, then, in this chapter, to see 
what different intervals of this kind may be made, and 
what are their uses. 

Let the sentence, ' I am comingjo see you to-day,' 
be repeated, taking great care not to make any word 
in it emphatic. Two things may be observed in the 
way of uttering it. 1. As was shown in the last chap- 
ter tfut one, there will be no slides of more than a tone 
on any of the syllables in it. 2. Though the syllables 
do not all begin on the same note, yet no two of them 
have any great difference in radical pitch between 
them, such as was observed in the other example be- 
tween the words ' I ' and ' won't. 5 The slight differ- 



56 DISCRETE PITCH. 

ence, which is made between some of them, has been 
found to be the same with what we have called a tone. 
The first rule then to be remembered in reference 
to Radical Pitch is, that an interval of a tone between 
two syllables gives no emphasis to either of them. 

4 You dare tell me so ?' If this sentence be read as 
it would be commonly spoken, the word < dare ' would 
be emphasized by having its radical pitch a third lower 
than that of the word before it. It would have also, 
as was explained in the last chapter, an upward slide 
of a third, in order to give it the intonation of a simple 
question. 

c I dare tell you so.' Here we should give an up- 
ward interval of a third in discrete pitch, between the 
words l I ' and c dare.' There should be also a down- 
ward slide of the same length on the latter word, to 
give it a somewhat positive expression. 

Repeat the question with more earnestness. l You 
dare? ' Here we shall have the downward interval 
of the fifth, with an upward slide of the same length. 
c I dare.' This repeated answer would exemplify 
the upward interval of the fifth with its downward slide. 
In the same way the corresponding octaves may be 
made, but, as was before observed, they are of little 
use, except for acting. 

In all the above examples of emphatic discrete in- 
tervals, it will be seen that, by adding them to their 
corresponding slides, a word is emphasized in a much 
more spirited manner than it would have been by the 
slides alone. Let the sentence, ' Sir, I thank the gov- 
ernment for this first measure,' be read, in the solemn 
and dignified tone of a man quite confident of being in 



DISCRETE PITCH. 57 

the right, and then in a more lively manner, and it will 
be seen, that the difference between the two readings 
will be, that in the former case we have a downward 
slide on the word ' thank ' without any upward discrete 
interval, while in the latter we use both together. In 
the same way, taking any of the examples which have 
been given in the fourth chapter for the slides, their 
emphasis may be made more or less spirited, simply 
by adding or not adding a discrete interval in the op- 
posite direction. 

The emphasis, then, which is given by the use of 
discrete pitch, is always spirited. In all the examples 
which have yet been given, the emphatic discrete in- 
terval has been accompanied by an equally long slide 
running the other way; but this, it should be under- 
stood, is not always the case. The rule for the employ- 
ment of discrete pitch is, to make the interval wider, 
according as we would have the emphasis more spirit- 
ed; the slides and waves must then be added accord- 
ing to their own rules. An example will be sufficient 
to explain this. 

1 A pretty fellow you are, to be sure.' This sentence 
is one which requires no emphatic slides. There is 
no interrogation to require an upward slide, and noth- 
ing positive, to need a downward one. If therefore 
we wish to read it as an angry taunt, we must give to 
it the spirited emphasis of the wide discrete interval 
combined with the unemphatic slide of the tone. 

Between the syllable c pret-' therefore, and the one 
before it, there will be an upward interval of a fifth or 
a third, according as the taunt is made more or less se- 
vere. A downward interval of corresponding length 
5 



58 DISCRETE PITCH. 

will then be made between ' ty ' and 'fel-.' The 
voice may perhaps rise a second time in radical pitch, 
on c you.' 

We have stated it as a general rule, that this kind 
of emphasis may be used, at any time when we want 
to give a spirited expression. There are some par- 
ticular cases in which it is almost necessary to use it. 
These may be best shown by examples. 

c Had I been his slave, he could not have used me 
worse.' We have here between the words c his ' and 
4 slave,' an upward discrete interval of a third or fifth, 
according to the degree of violence with which we 
suppose the sentence to be spoken. There is, in ad- 
dition to this, a downward slide of the same length on 
the latter word. On the second emphatic word, 
4 worse,' we shall probably give only the downward 
slide, without any upward interval. On both words 
we require a spirited emphasis. Why then do we not 
give the upward interval on the second, as well as on 
the first? The reason is this. The first clause is 
conditional : l If I had been &c. : ' the second is not. 
We give to the emphatic words in the conditional 
clause the upward interval, in order to keep the sense 
suspended, and to make the hearer expect a second 
clause. When we come to the second clause, we 
commonly cease to use it, that we may mark out 
clearly the transition. This will be foundto be a 
rule of almost universal application. 

It may be remarked that in this mode of applying 
the upward intervals, it is by no means necessary to 
have a corresponding downward slide joined with 
them, though this is certainly the most common usage. 



DISCRETE PITCH. 59 

The sentence c If he did hate me, what then?' will 
perhaps explain this. Let it be read with such eager- 
ness and haste as to give an upward fifth between 'he ' 
and c did : ' the downward slide on the word c did ' 
would hardly ever be made more than a third in length. 
* He thought so and therefore he said it.' In this 
example there is an antithesis between the two words 
1 thought ' and ' said.' In order to give the right ex- 
pression to the sentence, it will be found necessary 
to give the wide radical interval on the one, and not 
on the other. Both of them will receive an emphatic 
downward slide. The most natural way of reading 
the sentence will be, to put an upward discrete third 
or fifth on the word ' thought, ' and not on ( said. 3 

One more case may as well be mentioned. When 
we are asking questions with a great deal of anger 
or surprise, we very commonly give to the emphat- 
ic syllables long upward slides, and then run along the 
other syllables which come between them, on the high 
pitch where the slide left off. This may be seen in 
the question, * All of them drowned?' 



CHAPTER VII. 

DISCRETE OR RADICAL PITCH— Continued. 

In the preceding three chapters we have considered 
many of the uses both of Concrete and Discrete 
Pitch. Enough has been said of the modes of em- 
ploying them for every purpose of emphasizing words. 
A little more may perhaps be said with advantage on 



60 DISCRETE PITCH. 

the mode of employing them, especially the latter r 
on the unemphatic syllables in discourse. 

In reference to the pitch of unemphatic syllables, 
two things which have been already noticed, must be 
very carefully borne in mind. 1. They must all have 
the slide of the tone iipicards, if we wish to connect 
them closely with succeeding words, and downwards, 
if we wish to separate them. 2. No two of them 
must ever have between them an interval of discrete 
pitch, wider than a tone.* 

The great thing to be avoided in reading a number 
of unemphatic words, is monotony. There are two 
kinds of monotony, one of which is almost as disa- 
greeable as the other. The first is that of sounding 
too many syllables together, on the same note of radi- 
cal pitch. You may have an example of it, in the 
way in which a child who could just spell out his 
words, would read the sentence l I — will — be — a 
— good — boy.' The only way to avoid this kind of 

* The Grammar of Elocution contains a pretty complete account 
of all the combinations of discrete pitch and slide, which may be 
allowed to enter into unemphatic speech. It has been found, on 
trial, almost impossible to invent a series of examples which should 
present a full view of them, without the introduction of diagrams; 
a step which, on many accounts, it was felt desirable to avoid. If 
any teacher should think, that the information rendered on this sub- 
ject in the text, is not sufficiently minute, we would refer him to 
the chapter on ' Simple Melody of Speech,' as it stands in that 
work. The examples may be orally explained to the class, and the 
diagrams copied out on the black board. Few classes of children, 
however, we apprehend, would be much benefitted by the explana- 
tion. 



DISCRETE PITCH. 61 

monotony is to recollect, that we must never give the 
same radical pitch to more than three or four syllables 
successively. The voice must be continually rising 
and falling through the tone. Unless indeed the sub- 
ject be a somewhat solemn one, we must not let even 
three or four syllables run along on the same note. 

The second kind of monotony is that which we al- 
most always hear, when people try to read poetry. 
It consists in running over and over again through 
the same, or nearly the same succession of notes, in 
the different clauses of a sentence. There are not 
many persons who will not fall into it, in reading 
such a verse as this of Addison's. 

1 When all thy mercies, O my God, 

My rising soul surveys, 
Transported with the view, I'm lost 

In wonder, love and praise.' 

It will require very great attention to get rid of 
this monotony, even in reading prose. 

It should be remembered, that we always take most 
notice of the way in which the voice is managed, at 
the pauses which take place in a sentence. If they 
are all made with the same rise or fall of the voice, 
the monotony which they will cause will be very ap- 
parent, as well as unpleasant to every one. The 
greatest pains should be taken to make the intonation 
at the pauses as diversified as possible, always recol- 
lecting, however, that, unless the words happen to 
be emphatic, we cannot employ any intervals of 
pitch wider than the tone. 

There is a particular intonation required before the 
5* 



62 DISCRETE PITCH. 

long pause, which occurs between important sen- 
tences or paragraphs. It is called the Cadence. It 
has several forms,* which are to be used according 
to the nature of the closing syllables of the sentence. 
1. The first, or perfect form of the cadence, is 
employed when the last two syllables are neither of 
them emphatic. Each of these syllables is made to 
fall a tone in radical pitch below the one before it, 
the last syllable having, of course, the downward 
slide of the tone. 

' I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor 
even reposed my head upon my pillow, without giv- 
ing vent to my steadfast abhorrence of such enor- 
mous and preposterous prin- ._ 

pies.' 



' Nothing came amiss 



t0 u- > 

him. 



' None but a fool would measure his satisfaction 
by what the world thinks c 



it. 



2. In the second form of the cadence, the voice 
passes through a downward slide of a third on the 
last syllable but one ; while the last syllable has its 



* In the Grammar of Elocution two forma of the cadence are 
given, which are here omitted. It was thought difficult to explain 
them by merely written examples to children. The teacher will be 
able to satisfy himself with regard to them, by a reference to the 
Grammar. If he thinks it worth while, he may easily display them 
orally to his class. 



DISCRETE PITCH. Oi> 

radical pitch on the same note on which the pre- 
vious slide had ended, and falls in its concrete pitch 
through the interval of a tone. 

; He went his way therefore, and washed, and came 

iEE- 



ing. 
' He said, He is a prc- 



phet.' 



1 One dead, uniform silence reigned over the whole 

RE "gion.' 

3. The third form of the cadence is made, by let- 
ting the last syllable fall a tone iu its radical pitch 
below the one before it, and then giving it the down- 
ward slide of the third. 

' They answered and said unto him, Thou wat 
altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us ? And 
thev cast him 

OUT.' 

1 Andrew, in a sorrowful tone, (as is usual on those 
occasions), prayed heaven to prolong his life, and 



health to enjoy it him- 



SELF. 



1 He then embraced his friends, stripped him- 
self of part of his apparel, and laid his head upon 
the 



BLOCK. 



' And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hun- 
dred and fiftv , 

' DAYS.' 

An abundance of other examples to illustrate these 



64 FORCE. 

various forms of the cadence, and indeed to explain 
all the several uses of discrete pitch, which we have 
mentioned, may be found in the exercises for read- 
ing, at the close of the volume. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ON FORCE. 

The second of the elements of expression has 
been stated to be the force, or degree of loudness, 
with which we speak. Every body knows that we 
speak much louder at some times than at others. 
Every body knows too, that loud speaking gives a 
very different meaning to a sentence, from what 
softer and less forcible speaking does. For exam- 
ple, the sentence c Take care, sir,' if uttered with 
great force and loudness, would seem like an angry 
threat, but, if uttered in a milder tone, it would ap- 
pear a very friendly warning. Such feelings as an- 
ger, joy, pain, terror, or confidence, are generally 
expressed by the use of considerable force. Se- 
cresy, sorrow, doubt, or shame, will require much 
less. 

This general rule must suffice to direct the pupil 
for what purposes he is to employ this element 
throughout a speech or sentence. If the sentiment 
contained be of the first class, he must use a good 
deal more of force throughout, than if it be of the 
second. His own judgment must tell him how much 
is required in each particular instance. 



FORCE. 65 

It is not, however, only to the general loudness of 
voice with which whole sentences are to be spoken, 
that we have to attend. We must see on what 
words in a sentence it is to be most used, and also 
in what manner it may in each case be best used, 
so as to convey the exact meaning we wish to give. 

In every sentence, some syllables must have great- 
er force than others. ' Itis/afce, Sir, utterly false.' 
Now, whether this sentence be read in a loud 
angry tone, or in a milder and more sorrowful one, 
the emphatic syllables c false,' ' ut-' and l false,' will 
be given with more force than the others. In this 
case, we see that the element of force is used to 
give emphasis. 

But now let us take another sentence: 'And Na- 
than said unto David.' Read this sentence without 
giving emphasis to any of the words in it. The 
syllables c Na-' ' said ' and ' Da-' will still be louder 
than the others. Here, then, we have the element 
of force used more on one syllable than on another, 
without making it emphatic. 

When the element of force is used to make a 
word emphatic, we commonly call it stress. What 
is the difference between stress, and that kind of 
force which was given to the unemphatic words in 
the last example ? In order to explain this, we 
must describe more minutely the nature of the slide, 
which has been shown to be made on every syllable 
in speaking. 

It has been shown already, (Chap, iv.) that when- 
ever we speak, there is a greater or less change of 
pitch between the beginning and the end of! the sound 



66 FORCE. 

we make. This change, we may now say, is a grad- 
ual one, that is, the voice passes quickly through all 
the musical sounds that can be made between the pitch 
where we begin, and that on which we end. There 
is another thing, too, to be noticed. In common 
speaking, it will be found that the voice begins more 
or less loud and full, and gradually dies away, be- 
coming weaker and weaker as it rises or falls in its 
slide. This dying away of the sound at the end of 
the syllable led Dr. Rush, who first noticed it, to 
give the name of the ' vanishing movement, ' or 
4 vanish ' to the latter portion of the slide. To the 
beginning, he gave the name of the ' radical move- 
ment ' or ' radical. ' 

This gradual and regular dying away of the sound 
takes place, we have said, in ordinary speaking. Jill 
unemphatic words have it, whether they are sounded 
loud or not. This may be seen by a reference to the 
example already given. ' And Nathan said unto Da- 
vid.' Let the whole be read without emphasis, just as 
one would say the words in the middle of a story. The 
syllables ' Na-' £ said ' and ' Da-' will be louder than 
the rest, as has been already shown. Now let each 
syllable be repeated separately, exactly as it was 
given in reading the whole sentence, and it will be 
found that on every one there will be made a grad- 
ual and even lessening of sound from the beginning 
to the end. This, as we shall see, is the reason 
why the louder syllables in the sentence do not strike 
us as emphatic. Why some syllables should receive 
this unemphatic force will be explained hereafter, in 
the chapter on Accent. It will be enough here to 



FORCE. 67 

state that, whatever may be the force of voice with 
which we may be speaking, if this full opening and 
regular vanish is given, emphasis will not be pro- 
duced by it; in other words, it will not be what we 
called stress. Of course we do not mean to say, 
that, in such a case, there can be no emphasis at all, 
but only that no emphasis will be given to the sylla- 
ble by the use of this element. 

It is only where this proportion between the radi- 
cal and vanish is not preserved, that we have stress 
or emphatic force. Now this may happen in several 
ways. 

1. The radical may be sounded fully, and the 
vanish be given very faintly, and of course very 
short. This is what we call radical stress. 

2. The radical may be sounded faintly, and the 
force may be given on the vanish. This has been 
termed vanishing stress. 

3. Force may be given at both ends, i. e. first on 
the radical, and then at the end of the vanish. This 
we call compound stress. 

4. Force may be given in the middle of the sound. 
This is called median stress. 

Each of these four kinds of stress will require 
some explanation. 



68 RADICAL STRESS. 

CHAPTER IX. 

FORCE— Continued. 

STRESS RADICAL STRESS. 

By radical stress, then, we mean the giving a full 
sound to the radical, and a much feebler and shorter 
sound to the vanish, of the syllable. It is, in fact, 
giving it what we may call an abrupt or sudden 
sound. It may be named either radical stress, or 
abruptness. 

An example of this kind of stress may be had in 
the words ' oat with you.' Let this sentence be ut- 
tered in a very hasty and passionate manner, and af- 
ter it, in a natural manner, such a sentence as ' he 
went out.' In the first case, the word ' out ' will 
have radical stress given to it, in the second it will 
not. The difference may be very easily perceived, 
and when once perceived will not be very easily for- 
gotten. 

We shall notice, if we attend to the above exam- 
ple, a very important fact in regard to this kind of 
stress. The tonic element ou in the word c out,' is 
one of the eight long tonics, and is therefore capable 
of having a somewhat long sound given to it. In 
the second sentence, l he went out,' where radical 
stress is not given to the word, we shall find that we 
may make it as long a syllable as custom will permit 
us ; but in the first, where radical stress is to be 
given, we must make it as short as possible. 

Radical stress, then, or abruptness, gives us a 
means of emphasizing a class of words, which we 



RADICAL STRESS. 69 

very often cannot emphasize in any other way. We 
cannot make a naturally short syllable emphatic, by 
giving it a longer sound than others. It is also very 
difficult to make the long slides with perfect distinct- 
ness on such a syllable. Wide intervals of radical 
pitch, together with the employment of radical stress, 
are the only means we can make use of to distin- 
guish it. 

It is then of great importance, that every pupil 
should acquire a perfect command over this mode of 
employing the element of force. For this purpose 
let him practise diligently on the following tables, 
until he is able, without apparent effort, to give to 
every one of the sounds which they contain, the ab- 
rupt expression heard on the word ' out ' in the pre- 
ceding example. This sudden, coughing effort of 
the voice will be the radical stress which he has to 
learn. 

It may be observed, that, as radical stress means 
nothing more than the giving to the radical a consid- 
erably greater degree of force as compared with the 
vanish, than it would have had in ordinary speaking, 
it by no means follows, that it must always have a 
great degree of general force or loudness of voice, 
combined w T ith it. Radical stress may be given to a 
syllable just as completely when we are speaking in 
a low voice, as when we are declaiming in a very 
loud one. It is true, indeed, that the addition of 
general force to radical stress gives it much greater 
intensity and energy, but still it must never be for- 
gotten, that it is not necessary to its existence. 

The tables must be practised on, in the order in 
6 



70 VANISHING STRESS. 

which they are here arranged ; first, the short tonic 
elements, as it will be found to be most easy to a be- 
ginner to give to them this kind of sound; next, the 
eight long tonics to be sounded as short as possible; 
and last, the list of words subjoined. It may be 
well also, in order to become entirely master of rad- 
ical stress in all its varieties, to practise on these ta- 
bles, first with a moderate degree of loudness or 
force of voice, then with its utmost power, and af- 
terwards with as little force as possible. Care must 
be taken, however, that the sudden short explosive 
sound be always given, whatever be the degree of 
general force which we employ. This exercise will 
be found to be of very great utility, and must there- 
fore be persevered in, till the pupils have acquired a 
very perfect command over the use of radical stress. 
A public speaker who cannot use this element well, 
will never make himself heard in a place of any 
size. 

TABLES. 

I. i', u, e, o', a", e'. 

II. ee, oo, a, a', a', o, ou, i. 

III. it, end, edge, odd, at, up, eat, ask, art, all, 
ought, oaf, old, out, ice, ev-er, of-fer, ad-ive, tm-der, 
oth-er, arf-ful, ov-er, oust-ed, ic-y. 

VANISHING STRESS. 

The second modification of stress has been stated 
to be, the giving to the vanish a greater degree of 
force than to the radical. It is in fact just the reverse 



VANISHING STRESS. 71 

of the natural, or unemphatic pronunciation of the 
syllable. In common speaking, we begin loud and 
end faintly; in this element, we begin more faintly, 
and end loud. 

Vanishing stress may be most commonly heard in 
the speech of the lower orders among the Irish. 
' And sure your honor will be knowing it.' It is heard 
also in the sound which we make in sobbing. 

It ought only to be used at the end of the emphatic 
slides of the voice. When it is added to the slide 
of the tone, it gives nothing more than the jerk we 
so often hear on the unemphatic words in Irish pro- 
nunciation. When properly combined with an em- 
phatic slide, it gives a more hasty and earnest ex- 
pression than the radical stress. In this way it is 
very frequently used by young children, c I loo'n't, I 
tell you.' 

In order to give vanishing stress to a syllable, it is 
.-also necessary that it be one which is capable of re- 
ceiving a pretty long sound. It need not indeed be 
a very long one, but it must not, like those syllables 
to which we give radical stress, be very short. 

Two tables are subjoined for practice on this ele- 
ment. The first contains the eight long tonics; the 
second, a few words on which vanishing stress may 
be easily exhibited. Each of the emphatic slides 
and waves may as well be given in their turn, in 
combination with it. Great care has to be taken, 
however, that the whole of the stress be thrown on 
to the end of the slide or wave, and none of it to 
the beginning. If the sound be forcible at the open- 



72 COMPOUND STRESS. 

ing, as well as at the close of the syllable, it will 
produce compound and not vanishing stress. 

It may be observed here, that any degree of gen- 
eral loudness may be made to accompany the use of 
vanishing stress. This is indeed the case with all 
the four kinds of stress. They should therefore ail 
of them be practised not only in a loud and energetic 
tone, but also in a more moderate, and even in alow 
and muffled voice. 

TABLES FOR PRACTICE. 

I. ee, oo, a, a', a", o, ou, i. 

II. he, you, may, dare, past, will, bound, bite, 
gone, done, shall. 

COMPOUND STRESS. 

It will not be necessary to enter very minutely into 
the examination of this form of stress. It has all 
the earnestness of the vanishing stress, combined 
with much more gravity and dignity. It consists in 
giving comparative force to both ends of the syllable, 
leaving the faint sound of the voice only on the mid- 
dle. It may be given on the word 'all ' in the fol- 
lowing example. 

1 The boat upset, and they were all lost/ » 

< ALL lost ? ' 

Compound stress may be practised with advantage 
on the two preceding tables, 



MEDIAN STRESS. 73 

MEDIAN STRESS. 

This last species of stress differs considerably from 
any of those which have been already described . In 
exhibiting it, the voice opens at the beginning of the 
syllable with moderate force — it then gradually in- 
creases or swells till the middle, after which it dies 
away again to the end. Of course, all this can be 
done only on syllables which are of very consider- 
able length, such as all, hail, wo. It should be 
heard in the sentence, ' Wo unto thee, Chorazin, wo 
unto thee, Bethsaida.' Its expression is always that 
of great solemnity. 

Median stress can be given much more perfectly 
on the equal waves of the voice, than on the simple 
slides. The reason of this is, that the speaking 
voice, when it is made to dwell long on one syllable, 
naturally assumes the form of an equal wave, and 
median stress can be only given on very long sylla- 
bles.. In using the subjoined tables, therefore, each 
example should be sounded successively, with me- 
dian stress on every one of the equal waves, direct 
and indirect. 

It will require great practice to obtain a full com- 
mand over this element, and great care after it has 
become familiar to us, to use it judiciously in speaking. 

TABLE FOR PRACTICE. 

I. ee, oo, a, a', a", o, ou, i. 

II. aid, save, all, heal, old, fair, praise, wo, move 
know, arm, hail, bear, roll, lord, thine, lone-\y, roy.^] f 
glo-ry, hol-y 3 un-known, con-ceo/. 

6* 



74 QUANTITY 

CHAPTER X. 

ON QUANTITY. 

The third of the elements of expression is quan- 
tity, or the length of time taken up in pronouncing a 
syllable. The great rule which must be always borne 
in mind in using this element, is this. On solemn 
subjects we speak slowly, on more lively ones we 
commonly speak quickly. Read the words, c Our 
Father, who art in heaven, 5 with a rapid utterance, or 
' a pretty fellow you are ! ' with a slow one, and the 
inconsistency will be at once apparent to every one. 

This would perhaps seem to be almost enough to 
say on this subject, and it would be so in reality, if 
every body could only give long or short quantity, 
without losing the proper sound of the syllables on 
which we would show it. We find that most people, 
when they try to speak rapidly, clip their words so as 
to make them hardly intelligible to persons near them, 
and quite inaudible to any one who may be a little 
way off. So, too, when they try to speak slowly, 
we are almost sure to find, in their delivery, either 
what we call singing, or else drawling. It is there- 
fore necessary, in a book on Elocution, to show how, 
by practice, all these common faults may be got 
rid of. 

The common fault, then, into which people fall in 
giving short quantity, is that of not pronouncing their 
words correctly. To avoid this, it will be necessary 
for the pupil to practise diligently the sounding of 
every one of the vocal elements, as they have been 



QUANTITY. 75 

explained in the 6rst chapter, till he can give them 
all loith perfect ease and accuracy. He must then 
sound them in their several combinations, as given 
in the three tables for practice on the vocal elements, 
till he feels confident, that he is able to sound them 
or any others easily, without altering in the least their 
proper pronunciation. He should then begin to 
practise the utterance of elements and words one 
after another, as quickly as he can, still taking care 
that no sound whatever, which ought to be heard in 
them, be suffered to escape him. A great part of 
this practice has been already directed to secure a 
distinct articulation. It must now be repeated, as far 
as may be necessary to insure the power of articu- 
lating, not only well, but also quickly. 

In giving long quantity, again, we have said most 
persons either sing or drawl. How are these faults 
to be avoided ? To answer this question, it will be 
only necessary to repeat a part of what had been al- 
ready said on the subjects of pitch and force. 

First, then, the voice in speaking, ought never to 
rest for a single instant on the same pitch. In every 
syllable after it has once begun, it must be all the 
while either rising or falling. If we neglect this 
rule, we shall make a sound like that which is heard 
in singing. Every one, who, in trying to read slow- 
ly, sings his long syllables, will be found to make 
this mistake. He will have run along a part at least 
of the sound on the same pitch, instead of making it 
rise or fall throughout. To get rid of this fault, 
therefore, we must persevere in practising the differ- 
ent slides and waves, till it becomes unnatural to us, 



76 QUANTITY. 

even when making them as long in their sound as 
possible, not to sound them correctly. 

The second fault is drawling. This must be cor- 
rected by the proper use of the element of force. 
There have been explained five different ways in 
which force may be applied to a syllable; the first 
being the natural radical and vanish, which adds 
no emphasis to it, and the other four being the dif- 
ferent modifications of emphatic force, or stress. It 
has been also shown, that of these four kinds of 
stress, the first, which has been called radical stress, 
can never be applied to a syllable without making us 
sound it short: the other three require the syllable to 
be naturally long. 

Now, in each of these five ways of applying force, 
the loudness of the voice is continually changing, 
throughout the word. Whenever we suffer it to re- 
main through any considerable part of the sound, for 
two or three words together, we shall find that we 
have got into a drawl. If any one will listen to the 
way in which a young child reads his alphabet, or 
spells short words, they will find, in the sounds he 
makes, a good example of both these faults which we 
have been explaining. £ a — b — c' — Along sound 
is given to the name of each letter: but the voice 
runs along through each on a level pitch, and 
with very nearly the same degree of force. 

In order, then, to correct this second fault, it will 
be only necessary to practise sounding syllables with 
long quantity, taking care to give them always either 
the natural radical and vanish, or else either vanish- 
ing, compound, or median stress. 



QUANTITY. 77 

It should be stated, however, that in almost every 
case where very long quantity is required, it will be 
best given by the combination of the equal waves 
with median stress. This therefore should be first 
practised. After we have mastered this point, it may 
be well to proceed to practise quantity on the simple 
slides, with the natural radical and vanish of the 



voice. If the pupil have strictly followed the direc- 
tions given for practice on vanishing and compound 
stress, it will be hardly required for him to repeat 
that exercise. For the two exercises we have here 
prescribed, the tables given under the head of median 
stress will be found sufficient. On them, however, 
he must practise till he can perform the exercise well. 

One point alone remains now to be noticed on this 
subject. In reading a sentence slowly, it will never 
do to give the same long quantity to every syllable in 
it. There are a great many syllables on which, from 
the natural shortness of the elements which compose 
them, we cannot possibly increase the length at all. 
Such words as bit, tap, hate, fop, pettish, can only 
be made long by altering their sound entirely^ We 
call such syllables immutable. 

There is a second class, again, which we can 
lengthen a little, but not much. These we call muU 
able. Can, mad, ban, in, are examples. 

The third class only are capable of receiving very 
long quantity. Hail, wo, throne, high, power, are 
of this character. They are called indefinite. 

In reading solemn passages, then, we must recol- 
lect that we are never to attempt to lengthen an im« 
mutable syllable at all, nor a merely mutable one 



78 QUANTITY. 

much. The use of the waves, and of median or 
compound stress, is confined to indefinite syllables; 
radical stress requires us to sound a syllable, to what- 
ever class it may belong, as if it were immutable; 
vanishing stress may be given to either mutable or 
indefinite syllables. The natural radical and vanish, 
and the simple slides, may be given to all. 

A remark or two should be made on the way in 
which we are to lengthen mutable syllables. Most 
of them have their tonic element naturally short. 
C-cT'-n, i'-n, b-a'"-n, e-nd. In such words no at- 
tempt must be made to lengthen out the tonic sound. 
All the quantity which may be given to the syllable 
must be given on the subtonic elements: — c-a'"-.W, 
i' JV, b-a'"-JV, e-N-D- 

In the same way, in lengthening indefinite syllables, 
much of the quantity must be given to the subtonic 
elements in them — th-r-O-JV (throne), s-OU-Nd 
(sound), r-O-L (roll), m-A-D (made). It will not 
do, however, in either case, to lengthen a subtonic 
element at all, if it comes before the tonic element 
in the syllable. This would sound very affectedly; 
indeed it would almost make two syllables of it: — . 
p-L-e'-N-D-e'-R (plunder), M-d!"-v> (mad), k-L-A-M 
(claim), JV-o-N (known). 

It will probably be difficult, at first, for the pupil 
to lengthen his subtonic elements, even where they 
ought to be lengthened. This difficulty must be re- 
moved by practising on the following tables. The 
first contains a list of the subtonics, which admit of 
being lengthened. On each of these let the pupils 
practise, first the slides, and then the equal waves, 



QUANTITY. 79 

of the tone, third and fifth, endeavoring throughout 
to make the sound as long as they can. The second 
table contains some mutable syllables, which will re- 
quire quantity on the closing subtonic elements. 
The third consists of a few indefinite syllables, 
whose quantity is to be shared between the tonics 
and the subtonics which follow it. 

TABLES. 

I. b, d, g, 1 3 m, n, ng, r 5 v, z, th. 

II. sob, sad, dog, tell, him, son, song, her, or, 

live, his. 

III. old, aid, all, heal, bound, end, known, aim, 
fair, our, save, raise, soothe, hol-y. 

The bad effect of trying to lengthen any of the 
subtonic or atonic elements, at the beginning of a 
word, may be shown on any of the words in these 
tables which have consonants before the tonic ele- 
ment. 

It is very important to recollect that an atonic 
element must never be lengthened at all, either at 
the beginning or end of a syllable. F-i-t (fit), 
£-a-v (save), SH-a-p (shape), Tif-i'-ng-k (think), 
a'-F (off), h-i'-S (hiss), p-u-&ff (push). We must 
always try to give to this class of elements a very 
short, as well as very distinct, sound. 



80 QUALITY. 

CHAPTER XI. 

ON QUALITY. 

We have now arrived at the consideration of the 
elements of expression, viz. quality, or the kind of 
voice we are to use for different purposes. As might 
be supposed, the human voice is capable of a great 
many varieties of quality. The words, harsh, 
smooth, hoarse, full, musical, aspirated, whispering, 
and many others, are employed to denote them. 

When we are speaking on subjects of no great 
interest, we use that kind of voice which is most 
easy and natural to us. This is nearly, though not 
quite the same, with almost every one. We can 
always recognize it when we hear it, as the natural 
lone of common conversation. 

There are some persons whose ordinary quality of 
voice is bad; but it ought to be remembered, in 
speaking on this subject, that we do not mean by this 
expression what is commonly meant by it. If a per- 
son pronounces indistinctly, or talks monotonously, 
whines, drawls, or talks either too fast or too slow, 
it is common to say that he has a bad kind of voice. 
None of these faults are, however, really faults of 
quality. Bad pronunciation must be amended by 
practising in the vocal elements, monotony, by at- 
tending to the proper modes of using pitch and ac- 
cent, whining, by avoiding the use of the semitone 
slides and waves, drawling, by the proper use of 
stress, too quick or too slow utterance, by the study 
and practice of quantity. So, also, if the voice be 



QUALITT. 81 

Coo full or too loud, the fault is rather in the misem- 
ployment of the element of force. None of these be- 
long really to the head of quality. 

Real faults of quality are those only which cannot 
be brought under any of the other elements of ex- 
pression. Like all other faults, they are to be 
amended only by careful practice. In almost every 
case they may be removed by this means. As soon 
as the nature of the fault, whatever it may be, has 
been ascertained, let the pupil direct his attention to 
it for a few weeks in all his reading, and even, if he 
can, whenever he is talking, and he will soon find 
that he is overcoming it. For example, if his 
speaking voice be too harsh, let him be continually 
aiming to make it sound less harshly when he reads; 
if it be too husky, let him try to make it clear and 
distinct; if he have fallen into a habit of speaking too 
much through the nose, or through the teeth, let it 
be his endeavor to avoid the peculiar effect of this 
way of talking, by trying to speak as other people 
do, through the throat. It will be the office of the 
instructer to point out such defects, whenever he 
finds theqa to exist. They are not of very common 
occurrence, and do not therefore require any very 
detailed explanation. 

We are not, however, to be always using this 
natural quality of voice, of which we have been speak- 
ing. Almost every emotion of the mind has its pe- 
culiar quality of voice, which is employed to express 
it, and no other. It will not, however, be necessary 
to describe them all, as it is not very often that we 
find them used improperly. A few may be noticed 



S2 QUALITY. 

with advantage, as they will serve to explain 'more 
thoroughly what we mean by quality of voice. 

When a person speaks with great authority, or in 
a very angry manner, his voice is commonly harsher 
than usual. The c come here, sir, 7 which we should 
address to a dog who did not mind the whistle, may 
serve as an example. 

Grief or pity, on the other hand, require a milder 
quality of voice. ' Poor fellow, 7 even to a dog, 
would never be spoken harshly. 

Secrecy will employ a whisper! This needs no 
example. 

Fear is expressed by a quality of voice a good 
deal like the whisper. We call it aspiration. 'What's 
the matter ? ' c Didn't you see it ? ' 

The same quality of voice in combination with 
great force is used to express extreme violence, and 
sometimes contempt. ' Coward! ' 

There is a quality of voice much used in acting, 
and, indeed, often of great importance in good public 
speaking. Dr. Rush has given it the name of the 
* orotund/ Its uses, and the modes of obtaining a 
command over it, are explained in the Grammar. 
As it is not easy of acquisition, it has been thought 
best not to attempt to give directions for its employ- 
ment in this book. It will be found of great impor- 
tance to the more advanced student of Elocution. 
In an introductory course of instruction, the teacher 
would hardly ever require to do more, than to cor- 
rect the faults which may be found in the natural 
quality of the voice. 



ACCENT. 83 

CHAPTER XII. 
ON ACCENT. 

In the eighth chapter (p. 64), an example was 
given of a sentence in which some of the syllables, 
though unemphatic, were to be read with a somewhat 
greater degree of force or loudness than the others. 
'And Na'than sa'id unto Da'vid.' It was also shown 
in what respect the unemphatic increase of force on 
these syllables differs from the emphatic use of that 
element, which we have called stress, and of which a 
number of examples have been given. We have 
now, under the head of accent, to explain the pur- 
poses which it is employed to serve in speech. 

The human voice and ear are so formed by nature, 
as always to require a variety in the force of the suc- 
cessive syllables in a sentence. Take any sentence 
whatever, and, whether there be emphatic words in 
it or not, this will be seen to be the case. 

' Then' they went out' of the ci'ty, and came' 
unto him'.' 

c And when he had said' this', he fell' asleep' '.' 

6 A War has need' of a good' mem'ory.* 

In the above examples those syllables which re- 
quire the heavy sound, and which are called accent- 
ed syllables, are all marked thus ('). The other syl- 



84 ACCENT. 

lables, which are comparatively slurred over, are 
said to be unaccented. It should be particularly re- 
membered that a monosyllable may really receive ac- 
cent, just as well as any one of the syllables in a 
long word. 

' He' had a fe'ver when' he was in Spain'.' 

In grammars and spelling-books the accent is only 
marked in words of two or more syllables: c Fe'- 
ver,' c Almight'y,' * Ir'ritable.' 

A glance at the five examples already given will 
suffice to demonstrate an important point in reference 
to accent. No syllable can have emphasis of any 
kind given it, without becoming accented. Let the pu- 
pil try to repeat either of the two last examples, on the 
former page, giving to the accented syllables in any of 
the emphatic words, the low sound of unaccented syll- 
ables, and he will directly find that the words are made 
unemphatic. It has been already more than once ob- 
served that accented syllables are not all emphatic. 
The two examples first given do not require any 
emphasis. They must, however, receive accent. 

It remains only to inquire how the accented and 
unaccented syllables are to follow one another in 
speech. Two very simple rules will explain the 
whole system. 

I. An unaccented syllable may follow an accented 
one, without any pause or break between them; an 
accented one cannot. 

Let the word c there'fore ' be taken as an example. 
The first syllable in it is always accented, the second,, 



ACCENT. 85 

never. In repeating the word, we see that the un- 
accented syllable can be uttered easily, without any 
pause between it and the accented one before it. 
But now, repeat the first syllable twice, i there' — 
there 7 ,' taking care to make it accented both times. 
There will be a very perceptible break between 
them, a break long enough for us to have got in, if 
we had tried, an unaccented syllable, in the time it 
lookup. We might say, ' there' and there',' in as 
little time as we can c there' — there'.' So much for 
the first rule. 

II. The second principle is, that two, or even 
more, unaccented syllables may follow one another 
without requiring any pause between them. 

Take, for instance, the following sentences: — 
1 There'fore there went'.' ' There' fore there went 
out'.' ' History of the king'.' The above exam- 
ples show us two, three, and even four unaccented 
syllables in this close union. More than four, we 
shall find too many. We shall be obliged to pause 
between them, in order to take breath. 

In each of these examples we find that the accent- 
ed syllable,, and the unaccented sound or sounds 
which follow it, are uttered by one effort of the voice. 
As soon as we come to another accented syllable, 
we must make another effort. c There'fore there 
went' out 7 — .' We give the name of a measure to 
the syllables which are thus sounded by one impulse. 
In order to make out the measure, for reading, we 
divide them from each other by bars, (thus, | | ). 
7* 



86 ACCENT. 

' |There'fore there | went' to lym | all' Jer | u'salem |— ? 
* | And' they shall | burn' to | geth'er. | ' 

If these sentences be read with their accents, as 
the}' are here marked out, they will have no pause 
whatever of the voice, from the beginning to the 
end. It is not possible, however, to read long sen- 
tences, without making pauses in them. Four or 
five measures are the most that can be sounded to- 
gether, without stopping. If we try to utter more, 
we shall lose our breath. The 'following sentence 
will serve as an example. 

£ I | can'not my | Lords' I | will' not | join' in 
con | grat'u | la'tion | on' mis | for'tune and dis | 
grace'.' 

Hardly any one will be able to read this sentence, 
as it is here marked out, without stops of any kind. 
They will be obliged to pause for breath before they 
reach the end. Yet the accented syllables are all 
marked rightly. Let us see whether there is not 
some means by which we can mark out the places 
where, and the length of time for which, we may, 
without violating the sense, be allowed to pause for 
breath. 

Pauses in speech are of various lengths, some 
taking up a whole measure, or even more ; others 
only taking half a measure. The following are ex- 
amples of those which are most commonly used. 

1. Where two accented syllables come together, 
the voice is commonly compelled to pause between 
then), through the unaccented portion of the first 
measure. This pause was exhibited in the repetition 



ACCENT* 87 

cf the accented syllable ' there'— there'.' It may 
be thus marked, c | there' 1 | there'.' 

4 | No'ah | went' 1 | in'.* 
c Then' they | went' 1 | in' unto I No' ah* | ' 
'Then' the | Lord' 1 | shut' him | in'.' 
4 And' in the | six' 1 | hun'dredth | year'.' 

If, however, the first accented syllable be indefi- 
nite in its quantity, we may make it so long in its 
sounds as to run it through the time of the whole 
measure, and so not leave any pause between it and 
the next. This would be very often done in solemn 
reading. 

Yet' 1 | V | Lord' | God"I | most' 1 | ho'ly | 

O' | Lord' | most' 1 | migh'ty. I 

In' the | self" 1 | same' | day' | en'tered | No'ah. 

This pause through the unaccented portion of a 
measure is so short and unimportant, that it is not 
commonly worth while to mark it. It has only to be 
remembered that where two accented syllables come 
together, a pause of half a measure may be made 
between them; but that if the former be indefinite, 
it need not be made. In the scored exercises for 
reading given in this work, the rest (1) is not printed, 
unless where the sense may happen to require a 
pause:— e. g. 

4 In' the | self | same' | day' | en'tered | No'ah. | 
4 Sir' 1 | I' in the | most' ex | press' | terms' f — * 

2. A pause may be made, if the sense requires it } 



8S ACCENT. 

through the unaccented portion of the measure. 

Thus: 

1 When' he had | end'ed | 1 lie | turned' to the | 
south' | side' of the | scaffold | 1 and [ said'. | ' 

1 Hav'ing | ut'tered a | short' | prayer' | 1 he | gave' 
the | signal | 1 to the | ex'e | cu'tioner. | ' 

The same rest is usually inserted in the scored 
exercises, wherever a sentence begins on an unac- 
cented syllable, in order to show to the reader, that 
it does not come at the beginning of the measure. 
Thus: 

1 'And the | wa'ters pre j vailed' upon the | earth'. | 5 
1 ' To | sat'isfy him | 1 the | door' o{ the | bed'- 
chamber | 1 was | half | o'pened. | ' 

1 c I | know' | that' my Re | deem'er | liv'uh. | ' 

3. Pauses may take up the whole time of a meas- 
ure. Thus: 

4 I' am a | mnzed' | 1 1 | yes' my | Lords' 1 \ Y 
am a | mazed' at his | Gra'ce's | speech'. | 

1 One' | dead' | uniform | si'lence | 1 1 | reigned' 
over the | whole' | re'gion. | ' 

' When' a | man' hath | once' | for'feited | 1 the | 
rep'u | ta'tion | 1 of his in | teg'rity | 1 1 \ noth'ing 
will | then' | serve' his | turn' | 1 1 \ neith'er | truth' | 
nor' | false'hood. | 5 

In the scored exercises, the rests (77) are omitted 
in the notation used to express this pause. Thus: 



ACCENT. 89 

4 If I as | cend' | up' into | heaven' | | thou' art | 
there'. | ' 

' 1 To | send' forth the | mer'ciless | In'dian | 
thirst'ing for | blood' ! | 1 a | gainst' | whom' ? | | 
your' | pro'testant | breth'ren! j ' 

4. Pauses may be made through a measure and a 
half, or two measures; and sometimes even through 
more. 

■ 1 I | make' the as | ser'tion | 1 de | lib'erately | | 1 
I re | peat' it | 1 and | call' on | a'ny | man' who | 
hears' me | 1 to j take' | down' my | words'. | ' 

1 Are' you | com'petent | 1 to trans | fer' them to 
the | Brit'ish ] parliament? | | 1 I | an'swer | no'. | ' 

1 Then' shall be | brought' to | pass' | 1 the | say'- 
ing that is | writ'ten | | Death' | 1 is | swal'lowed | 
up' | 1 in | vic'tory | | 0' | Death' | | where' is thy 
| sting'? | | | 0' | Grave' | | where' is thy | vic'tory ? 
| | | 1 The | sting' of | death' | 1 is | sin' | | 1 and 
the | strength' of | sin' | 1 is the | law'. | | | 1 But | 
thanks' be to | God' | 1 who | giv'eth us the | vic'tory 
| through' our | Lord' | Je'sus | Christ'. | 

These longest pauses, of course, only take place 
between sentences, i. e. in places where, in common 
printing, full stops would be made. 

Some other pauses may perhaps be seen in the 
scored exercises. They may, however, be so easily 
explained by the teacher, while going through them, 
that it is not worth while to describe them all here. 

The scored exercises which have been so often 
referred to, must be all read over by the class, 



90 ACCENT. 

with the utmost care, the attention being directed, 
not only to the emphasis, but also more especially 
to the accents, and to the marked pauses. The 
principles on which they are divided into meas- 
ures, and separated by pauses, must be repeated over 
and over, while reading them, till they have become 
perfectly plain and familiar to every one. When the 
scored pieces have been thus read and studied, the 
pupils must be required to score out for themselves, 
the whole or part of the two succeeding unscored 
pieces.* 

The mark (') over the accented syllables which 
has been used in all the examples given in this chap- 
ter, is omitted in the scored exercises. The pupil 
will have no difficulty in recollecting that the accent- 
ed syllable is always the one which comes close after 
the bar. 

c Such were the | last | hours | 1 and | such the | 
final | close | 1 of this | great | man's | life. | 



* If this practice be diligently performed, there will be found 
fjw pupils, if any, in a class who will not have acquired the 
power of reading tcithout ever getting out of breath. The longer 
and more attentively it is persevered in, the more satisfactory will 
be the result. If it be neglected, or given up before the desired 
effect is produced, the whole labor of explaining the system of 
accent will have been lost. The author of this work may testify, 
from his own experience, to the utility of the course he recom- 
mends. Other teachers, who have employed a book of scored 
exercises which he published some years since, have assured him 
of their success, in teaching children to read carefully, and mind 
their stops. The hasty, gabbling, panting way in which most 
children read, is enough to prove the necessity of some such plan. 



ANALYSIS. 91 



CHAPTER XIII. 



ON ANALYSIS. 

The preceding chapters of this work have been 
taken up in giving an account, first, of the vocal 
elements, by practising on which we may obtain a 
correct articulation, and then of the different uses of 
the elements of expression. It was stated, at the 
outset, that in order for any one to become a perfect 
speaker, it is necessary that he should have practised 
on all these, till he finds no difficulty whatever in 
performing any exercises on them, however difficult. 
A series of exercises have been given on each sub- 
ject, which will probably be found sufficient. It is 
hoped that all the practice recommended on them, 
lias been performed. If the pupil really wishes to 
succeed, it must be. 

But there is also another thing quite as necessary 
to make a good speaker. It is the right understanding 
ofthe meaning of what he speaks. Without this, he will 
be all the while making mistakes, however well he 
may be able to sound either the vocal elements or the 
elements of expression. He must know when and 
where he ought to use each element of expression; 
and he never can do that, if there be any part of what 
he has to say, which he does not understand. 

The teacher would do well to refer, for his own information on 
this subject, to the Grammar, where a much fuller exphimition of 
it is given, than was thought necessary in a book for children. 



92 ANALYSIS. 

This, then, is the second thing to which he must 
attend. When he comes to read, after having gone 
through his practice on the elements, he must en- 
deavor to find the exact meaning of each sentence. 
This is what we call attending to the Analysis of 
speech. 

Some persons, of course, will be able to do this a 
good deal easier t' an others. Every body must, 
how r ever, learn to do it as well as he can. It will 
not be possible to give any rules by which it may be 
done without attention. The only rule we can give 
is, to think about it. 

A few examples and remarks will perhaps be of 
use in showing a little, how we are to think in order 
to find out this point. 

First, we are to see which are the emphatic parts, 
and which the unemphatic. Those words and parts 
of the sentences which are most important, are to be 
made emphatic by the use of some one or other of 
the elements of expression, according to the kind of 
meaning which they ought to have. Those parts, 
which are, for any reason, of less consequence, are 
to be unemphatic. 

' They brought to the PHARISEES him that 
aforetime teas blind. And it was the SABBATH- 
DAY ichen Jesus made the clay, and opened his eyes. 
Then again the PHARISEES also asked him hoit 
he had received his sigh!. He said unto them, he 
put clay upon mine eyes, and I washed, and do see.' 
John ix. 13, 14, 15. 

In this example, the first important part is the 
word c Pharisees.' We had been told before, in the 



EXERCISES. 105 

from | insults. | | Much | more | 1 is | he to be ab | 
horred | who, | as he has ad | vanced in | age, | 1 has 
re | ceded from | virtue, | 1 and be | comes | more | 
wicked | 1 with | less temp | tation: | | 1 who | pros- 
titutes him | self for | money | 7 which he | cannot 
en | joy, | 1 and | spends the re | mains of his | life 
| 1 in the | ruin of his | country. | 

1 But | youth | lis | not my | only | crime. | | | 
I have been ac | cused | 1 of | acting a the | atrical | 
part. | | | 

1 A the | atrical | part, | may | either im | ply | 
some pe | culi | arities of | gesture, | 1 or a | dissimu 
] lation of my | real | sentiments, | 1 and an a | dop- 
tion of the | opinions and | language | 1 of an | other 
j man. | 

1 In the | first | sense, | 1 the | charge is | too | 
trifling | 1 to be con | futed: | | 1 and de | serves | 
only to be | mentioned, | | that it | may be de | 
spised. | | I am at | liberty | 1 (like | every | other 
| man) | 7 to | use my | own | language: | 1 and | 
though I | may | 7 per | haps, | 7 have | some | 7 am 
| bition,| yet, to | please | this | gentleman, | 1 shall 
| not | lay myself | 7 under | any re | straint, | 7 or l 
very | 1 so | licitously | copy | his | diction, | 7 or 
his | mien; | 7 how | ever | 7 ma | tured by | age, | 7 
or | modelled by ex | perience. | | 1 If | any man | 
shall, | 7 by | charging me | 7 with the | atrical be | 
havior, | 7 im | ply | 7 that I | utter | any | sentiments 
j but my | own, | 7 I shall | treat | him | as a ca | 
umniator I 7 and a | villain: | | nor shall | any pro [ 
tection | shelter him | 7 from the | treatment | which 
he de | serves. | | 7 I | shall, | 1 on | such an oc | 
9 



106 EXERCISES. 

casion, | 1 with | out | scruple | trample upon [ all J 
those | forms | 1 with which | wealth and | dignity | 1 
en | trench themselves; | | nor shall | any thing | but 
| age | 1 re | strain my re | sentment: | | age, | 1 
which | always | brings | one | privilege; | | that | 1 
of | being | insolent | 1 and | super | cilious | 1 with 
| out | punishment. | | | 

But with re | gard to | those | whom I have of | 
fended, | I am ofo | pinion | 1 that | if I | had | acted 
a | borrowed [ part, | I should have a | voided their | 
censure. | | T The | heat that of | fended them | 1 
is the | ardor of con | viction, | 1 and that | zeal for 
the | service of my | country, | 1 which | neither | 
hope, | 1 nor | fear, | 1 shall | influence me | 1 to 
sup | press. | | 1 I | will not | sit | uncon | cerned | 
while my | liberty | 1 is in | vaded: | 1 nor | look in | 
silence | 1 upon | public | robbery. | | I will ex | 
ert my en | deavors | 1 (at what | ever | hazard) | 1 
to re | pel the ag | gressor, | 1 and | drag the | thief 
to | justice, | | what | power | so | ever | 1 may pro| 
tect the | villainy, | 1 and | who | ever | 1 may par | 
take | 1 of the | plunder. | | | 



EXERCISE II. 

st. paul's defence before agrippa. 
Acts xxvi. 1. 

Then A | grippa | said unto | Paul, | | Thou art 
per | mitted to | speak for thy | self. | | | Then | Paul 



EXERCISES. 107 

| stretched forth the | hand, | 1 and | answered | 1 for 
him | self. | | | 

1 I | think myself | happy, | | King A | grippa, | 1 
be | cause I shall | answer for my | self | this | day | 
1 be | fore | thee, | touching | all the | things | 1 
where | of | 1 I am ac | cused | 1 of the | Jews: | 
1 e | specially | 1 be | cause 1 1 know thee 1 1 to be ex 
| pert in | all | customs | 1 and | questions | 1 which 
| are a | mong the | Jews: | | wherefore | 1 I be | 
seech thee | T to | hear me | patiently. | 

1 My | manner of | life | 1 from my | youth, | | 
which was at the | first | 1 a | mong mine | own | na- 
tion | 1 at Je | rusalem, | know | all the | Jews; | | 1 
which | knew me | from the be | ginning, | if they 
would | testify; | 1 that | after the | most | straitest | 
sect j 1 of our re | ligion | 1 I | lived a | Pharisee. | | 

1 And | now | 1 I | stand 1 1 and am | judged | 1 for 
the | hope of the | promise | made of | God | unto 
our | fathers: | | 1 unto | which | promise | 1 our | 
twelve | tribes, | instantly | serving | God | day and | 
night, | hope to | come. | | 1 For | which | hope's j 
sake, | King A | grippa, | | I am ac | cused | 1 of the 
| Jews. | | Why | should it be | thought | 1 a | thing 
in | credible | 1 with | you, | 1 that | God | 1 should 
| raise the | dead? | | I | verily | thought with my | 
self, | 1 that I | ought to | do | many | things | con- 
trary | 1 to the | name of | Jesus of | Nazareth. | | | 
1 Which | thing | 1 I | also | did | 1 in Je | rusalem: 
| 1 and | many of the | saints | 1 did I | shut up in | 
prison, | | having re | ceived au | thority | 1 from 
the | chief | priests; | | 1 and | when they were | put 
to | death, | 1 1 | gave | my | voice | 1 a | gainst 



108 EXERCISES. 

them. | | | 1 And I | punished them | 1 oft | 1 in | 
every | synagogue, | 1 and com | pelled them | 1 to 
bias | pheme; | | 1 and | being ex | ceedingly | mad 
a | gainst them, | 1 I | persecuted them | even unto | 
strange | cities. | | Whereup | on as I | went to Da | 
mascus, | | 1 with au | thority, | 1 and com | mission 
| 1 from the | chief | priests, | 1 at | mid | day, | | 
king, | 1 I | saw in the | way | 1 a | light from | hea- 
ven, | 1 a | bove the | brightness | 1 of the | sun, | 
shining | round a | bout | me, | 1 and | them which | 
journeyed | with me. | | T And | when we were | all 
| fallen to the | earth, j 1 I | heard a | voice | speak- 
ing unto me, | 1 and | saying | 1 in the | Hebrew | 
tongue, | | Saul, | | Saul, 1 1 why | persecutest thou | 
me? | | 1 it is | hard | for thee \ 1 to | kick a | gainst 
the | pricks. | | 1 And I J said, | Who | art thou, | 
Lord? | | 1 And he | said, | 1 I am | Jesus, | | whom 
thou | persecutest. | | 1 But | rise | 1 and | stand 
upon thy | feet; | | 1 for | I have ap | peared unto 
thee | 1 for | this | purpose, | 1 to | make thee a | 
minister | T and a | witness | | both of | these | things 
| which thou hast | seen, | 1 and of | those | things | 
1 in the | which | 1 I will ap | pear unto thee; | | 7 
de | livering thee | 1 from the | people, | and from 
the | Gentiles, | 1 unto | whom | now I | send thee; 
| 1 to | open their | eyes, | 1 and to | turn them | 1 
from | darkness | T to | light, | 1 and from the | power 
of | Satan | 1 unto | God; | | 1 that | they may re | 
ceive | 1 for | giveness of | sins, | 1 and in | heritance 
| 1 a | mong | them which are | sanctified, | 1 by | 
faith | 1 that is in | me. | | | Whereup | on, | | king 
A | grippa, | | I was | not diso | bedient | T unto the 



EXERCISES. 109 

j heavenly | vision: | | 1 but | showed | first | 1 unto 1 
them of Da | mascus, | | 1 and at Je | rusalem, | 7 
and through | out | all the | coasts of Ju | dea, | 1 and 
| then | 1 to the | Gentiles, | | that they should re | 
pent | 1 and | turn to | God, | 1 and | do | works | 
meet for re | pentance. | | 1 For | these | causes | 1 
the | Jews | caught me in the | temple, | 1 and | 
went a | bout j T to | kill me. | | | Having | therefore 
| 1 ob f tained | help of | God, | 1 I con | tinue | 7 
unto | this | day, | witnessing | both to | small and | 
great, | | saying | none | other j things | 1 than | those 
1 7 which the | prophets | 1 and | Moses | 7 did | say, 1 7 
should | come, | | 1 that | Christ | 1 should | suffer, 
| 7 and that | he should be the | first | 7 that should 
| rise from the | dead, | 1 and should | show | light | 
7 unto the | people, | and to the j Gentiles. | | 7 
And as he | thus | spake for himself, | | Festus | said 
with a | loud | voice, | | Paul, | thou art be | side thy- 
self ; | | much | learning | 1 doth | make thee | mad. 
| But he | said, | 1 I am | not | mad, | 7 most | no- 
ble | Festus, | 1 but | speak forth the | words of | 
truth | 1 and | soberness. | | 1 For the | king | know- 
eth of | these | things, | 1 be | fore | whom | also | 7 
I | speak ] freely; | | 1 for | I am per | suaded | 7 that 
| none of | these | things | 1 are | hidden from | him; 
| 1 for | this | thing | 1 was | not | done in a | cor- 
ner. | | King A | grippa, | 1 be | lievest thou the- 1 
prophets? | | 7 I | know | 1 that thou be | lievest. 
| | | Then | 1 A | grippa | said unto | Paul, | Al | most 
| thou per | suadest | me | 1 to be a | Christian. | | | 
And | Paul | said, | 7 1 1 would to God, | 7 that | not 
9* 



110 EXERCISES. 

only | thou, | 1 but | also | all that [ hear me | this 
day, | 1 were | both | al | most, | 1 and | alto | gether 
| such as | I am, 1 1 ex | cept | these | bonds. | | | 



EXERCISE III. 
ON SINCERITY. 

FROM ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON (ABRIDGED). 

Truth | 7 and sin | cerity | 1 have | all the ad | 
vantages | 1 of ap | pearance, | 1 and | many | more. 
| 1 If the | show of | any thing | 1 be | good for | 
any thing, | | 1 I am | sure | 7 the re | ality | 7 is | 
better: | | 1 for | why | 7 does | any man | 1 dis | sem- 
ble, | 7 or | seem to be | that which he | is | not, | 
but be | cause | 1 he | thinks it | good to | have | 7 
the | qualities | 7 he pre | tends to? | | Now the | 
best | way | 7 for a | man to | seem to be | any thing, | 
is to | be in re | ality, | | what he would | seem to be: 
| 1 be | sides, | T It Is | often as | troublesome | 7 to 
sup | port the pre | tence of a | good | quality, | 7 as 
to | have it; | 7 and | if a | man | have it not, | 7 it is 
| most | likely | he will be dis | covered to | want it; 
| | 7 and | then, | all his | labor to | seem to | have it, 
| 1 is | lost. | | 7 There is | something | un | natural 
| 1 in | painting, | 7 which a J skilful | eye | 7 will | 
easily dis | cern | 7 from | native | beauty | 7 and 
com | plexion. | 

Therefore, | 7 if | any man | think it con | venient 
to | seem | good, | let him | be so in | deed: [ | 7 and 



EXERCISES. Ill 

| then | 1 his | goodness will ap | pear | *7 to [ every- 
one's | 1 satis | faction. | | 1 Par | ticularly, | | as 
to the af | fairs of | this | world, | 1 in | tegrity | 1 
hath | many ad | vantages | over | all the arti | ficial | 
modes | 1 of | dissimu | lation | 1 and de | ceit. | | 
1 It is | much the | plainer | 1 and | easier, | | much 
the | safer, | 1 and | more se | cure | way of | dealing 
in the | world; | | 1 it has | less of | trouble and 
| difficulty, | 1 of en | tanglement | 1 and per ] plex- 
ity, | 1 of | danger and | hazard | 1 in it. | 1 The 
| arts of de | ceit and | cunning | 1 con | tinually | 
grow | weaker, | 1 and | less | serviceable | 1 to | 
those that | practise them; | | 1 where | as | 1 in | 
tegrity | | gains | strength by | use; | [ 1 and the 
| more and | longer | any man | practiseth it, | 1 
the | greater | service | 1 it | does him: | | 1 by con 
| firming his | repu | tation, | 1 and en | couraging | 
those | 1 with | whom he | hath to | do, | 1 to re | 
pose the | greatest | confidence | 1 in him: | | which 
is an un | speakable ad \ vantage | 1 in | business, | T 
and the af | fairs of | life. | 

1 But | insin | cerity [ 1 is | very | troublesome to 
| manage. | | 1 A | hypocrite | 1 hath | so many | 
things | 1 to at | tend to, | 1 as | make his | life | 1 
a | very per | plexed and | intricate | thing. | | T A 
| liar | 1 hath | need of a | good | memory, | | lest 
he | contra | diet | 1 at | one | time | 7 what he | said 
at an | other: | | 1 but | truth | 1 is | always con | 
sistent, | 1 and | needs | nothing to | help it | out: | 
| 1 it is | always | near at | hand, | 1 and | sits upon 
our | lips; | | 1 where | as a | lie | 1 is | troublesome, 



112 EXERCISES. 

| 1 and | needs a | great | many | more | 1 to | make 
it | good. 

1 In a | word, | whatso | ever con | venience j 1 
may be | thought | 1 to | be in | falsehood | 1 and dis 
| simu | lation, | 1 it is | soon | over: | | but the | 
incon | venience of it | 1 is per | petual; | 1 be 
cause | 1 it | brings a | man | under an | ever | lasting 
| jealousy | and sus | picion; | | so that he is | not 
be | lieved | 1 when he | speaks the | truth; | | 1 nor 
| trusted | T when per | haps, | 1 he | means | honest- 
ly. | | When a | man hath | once | forfeited | 1 the 
repu | tation \ 1 of his in | tegrity, | j nothing | 1 
will | then | serve his | turn, | | neither | truth | nor | 
falsehood. | | | 

1 In | deed, | 1 if a | man were | only to | deal in 
the | world | 1 for a | day, | T and should | never 
have oc | casion | 1 to con | verse | more with man | 
kind, | | it were | then | 1 no | great | matter | 1 (as 
| far as res | pects the af | fairs of | this | world) | 1 
if he | spent his | repu | tation | all at | once; | 1 or 
| ventured it | 1 at | one | throw. | | But if he | be 
to con | tinue | 1 in the | world, | 1 and would j have 
the ad | vantage of | repu | tation | whilst he is | in 
it, | | let him | make | use of | truth | 1 and sin | cer- 
ity | 1 in j all his | words and | actions; | | 1 for | 
nothing but | this | 1 will | hold | out | 1 to the | end. 
( | | All | other | arts | 1 may | fail; | 1 but | truth | 1 
and in | tegrity | 1 will | carry a | man | through, | 1 
and I bear him I out I 1 to the I last. I I | 



EXERCISES. US 

EXERCISE IV. 

ON HAPPINESS OF TEMPER. 

GOLDSMITH. 

Writers j 1 of | every | age j 7 have en j deav- 
ored to | show | 7 that j pleasure | 7 is in j us, | 7 
and | not in the | objects j | offered | 7 for our a j 
musernent. | [ 7 If the | soul be | happily dis | 
posed, | | every thing | 1 be | comes | capable | 7 
of af | fording | 7 enter | tainment; | I 7 and dis j 
tress | 7 will | almost | want a | name. I | Every 
oc | currence | | passes in re | view | 7 like the | 
figures I 7 of a nro | cession; j | some | 7 maybe 
| awkward, | | others | ill | dressed; I 7 but : none 
but a | fool | 7 is for j this, | 7 en | raged with the 
| master of the j ceremonies, j 

7 I re | member | 7 to have | on^e [ seen a | slave, 
| 7 in a | fortifi | cation | 7 in | Flanders, | 7 who 
.ap | peared | no way | touched | 7 with his | situ | 
ation. | | 7 He was | maimed, | 7 de | formed | 7 
and | chained: | | 7 o | bliged to | toil | 7 from the 
ap | pearance of [ day | 7 till j night-fall, | 7 and 
con | demned to | this | 7 for | life; j | yet with | all 
| these | circumstances | 1 of ap | parent | wretched- 
ness, | 7 he | sung, | | would have j danced, | 7 but 
that he | wanted a | leg, | 7 and ap | peared the | 
merriest, | ! happiest | man | 7 of | all the | garri- 
son. | | | 

7 What a j practical j 7 phi | losopher | 7 was | 
iere, I I 7 a I happy consti | tution | 7 sup [ plied 



114 EXERCISES. 

phi | losopby; | 1 and though | seemingly | destitute 
of | wisdom, | 1 lie was | really | wise, j | No | 
reading ] T or | study | 1 had con | tributed | 1 to 
disen ) chant | 1 the | fairy | land | 1 a | round him. 
| Every thing ] furnished him | 1 with an | oppor 
| tunity | 1 of | mirth, | 1 and though | some | 
thought him, | 1 from bis | insensi | bility, | 1 a | 
fool, | 1 he was | such an | idiot | 1 as phi | loso- 
phers | 1 should | wish to | imiiate: | | 1 for | all 
phi | losopby | 1 is | only j forcing the | trade of | 
happiness, | 1 when j Nature | seems to do | ny the 
| means. | | | 

They, | 1 who | like our | slaves, | 1 can | place 
themselves | 1 on | that | side of the | world | 1 in | 
which | every tiling | 1 ap | pears in a | pleasing | 
light, | 1 will | find | something | 1 in | every oc | 
Clarence j 1 to ex | cite their | good | humor. | | 1 
The | most ca | lamitous e j vents, | | either to them 
| selves | 1 or | others, | 1 can | bring | no | new | 1 
af | fliction; | j 1 the j whole | world | T is to | them, 
| 1 a | theatre, | 1 on which | comedies j only | 1 are 
| acted, j | All the | bustle of | heroism, | 1 or the 
| rants of am | bition | j serve | only to | heighten 1 1 
the ab | surdity | 1 of the | scene | 1 and | make 
the | humor | 1 more | poignant. | | 1 They | 
feel, | 1 in | short, | 1 as | little | anguish | 1 at 
their | own dis | tress, | 1 or the com j plaints of | 
others, | 1 as the | under | taker, | 1 though | dressed 
in | black, | feels | sorrow | 1 at a | funeral. | 

1 Of | all the | men | 1 I | ever | read of, | 1 the 
| famous | Cardinal de | Retz | 1 pos | sessed this | 
happiness of | temper | 1 in the | highest de | gree^ 



EXERC[SES. 115 

I As he was a | man of I gallantry, | 1 and des | 
pised | 1 all that | wore the pe | dantic ap | pearance 
| 1 of phi | losophy, | 1 wher | ever | pleasure | 1 
was to be | sold | he was | generally | foremost | 1 to 
| raise the | auction. | | | Being a | uni | versal | 1 
ad | mirer of the | fair | sex, | | 1 when he | found | 
one | lady | cruel, | 1 he | generally | fell in | love | 
1 with an | other, | 1 from | whom he ex | pected | 1 
a more | favorable | 1 re | ception. | | | 1 If | she, 
| too, | 1 re | jected his ad | dresses, | | 1 he | never 
| thought of re | tiring into | deserts, | T or | pining in 
| hopeless dis | tress; | | he per | suaded himself, | 1 
that in | stead of | loving the | lady, | 1 he had | only 
j fancied | 1 that he had | loved her; | | 1 and | so | 
all was | well again. | | | 

1 When | fortune | wore her | angriest | look, | | 1 
and he at | last | fell into the | power | 1 of his most 
| deadly | enemy, | j Cardinal | Maza | rine, | | (being 
con | fined a | close | prisoner, | 1 in the | castle of ] 
Valen | ciennes), | 1 he | never at | tempted | 1 to 
sup | port his dis | tress | 1 by | wisdom | 1 or phi | 
losophy; | | 1 for he pre | tended to | neither. | | 1 
He | only | laughed [ 1 at him | self | 1 and his | per- 
secutor; | | 1 and | seemed | infinitely | pleased | 1 
at his | new situ | ation. | | 1 In this | mansion of 
dis | tress, | | though se | eluded from his | friends, | 
| 1 though de | nied | all the a | musements, | 1 and | 
even the con | veniences of | life, | 1 he | still re | 
tained his | good | humor; | | laughed at | all the | 
little | spite of his | enemies: | | 1 and | carried the | 
jest | so | far | as to be re | venged, | 1 by | writing 
the | life | 1 of his | gaoler. | | 



116 EXERCISES. 

All that the | wisdom of the | proud | 1 can | teach, 
| 1 is to be | stubborn, | T or | sullen, | 1 under mis | 
fortunes. | | 1 The | Cardinal's ex | ample | 1 will 
in | struct us to be | merry, | 1 in | circumstances | 1 
of the | highest af | fliction. | | | 1 It | matters not j 
1 whether our | good | humor | T be | construed, | 1 
by | others, | 1 into | insensi | bility; | 1 or | even | 
idiotism: | | 1 it is | happiness | 1 to our | selves; | 
1 and | none but a j fool, | 1 would | measure his | 
satis | faction | 1 by | what the | world ( thinks of 

it- I | I 

1 The | happiest | silly | fellow | 1 I | ever | knew, 
| 1 was of the | number of those | good natured | 
creatures | 1 that are | said to do | no | harm | 1 to | 
any but them | selves. | | 1 When | ever he | fell 
into | any | misery, | 1 he | usually | called it | | 
' Seeing | life.' | | j 1 If his | head | 1 was | broke by 
a | chairman, | 1 or his | pocket | picked by a | shar- 
per, \1 he | comforted himself | 1 by | imitating | 1 
the Hi | bernian | dialect | 1 of the | one, | or the more 
| fashionable | cant | 1 of the | other. | J | Nothing | 
came a | miss to him. | 

1 His | inat | tention to | money matters | 1 had 
in | censed his | father | T to | such a de | gree, | 1 
that | all inter | cession of | friends, | 1 in his | favor, 
| 1 was | fruitless. | 

1 The | old | gentleman | 1 was on his | death bed. 
|||1 The | whole | family, | 1 and | Dick |1 a | 
mong the | number, | | gathered a | round him. | | | 

1 ' I | leave my | second | son | Andrew,' | 1 said 
the ex | piring | miser, | 1 ' my | whole es | tate; | 
1 and de | sire him p to be | frugal.' | 



EXERCISES. 117 

Andrew, | 1 in a | sorrowful | tone | 7 (as is | usual 
I 7 on | those oc | casions) , | | prayed [ Heaven 
to pro | long his | life and | health | 1 to en | joy 
him | self ! | | | 

1 < I | recora | mend | Simon, | 7 my | third | son, 

7 to the | care of his | elder | brother; | | 7 
and ] leave him, | 7 be | side, | four | thousand | 
pounds.' | 

1 Ah! father,' | 7 cried | Simon | 7 (in great af | 
fliction, | T to be | sure), | 7 c may | Heaven | give 
you | life and | health | 7 to en | joy it your | 
self! '|| | 

7 At | last | turning to | poor | Dick, | | c as for | 
you, | you have | always | 7 been a | sad | dog; | | 
you'll | never | come to | good: | | you'll | never be | 
rich; | | 7 I | leave | you | 7 a | shilling, | 1 to | buy 
a | halter.' | | | 

'Ah! | father,' | 7 cries | Dick, | 7 without | any 
e | motion, | 7 ' may | Heaven | give you | life and | 
health j 1 to en | joy it your | self ! ' | 



EXERCISE V. 

THE EXILE OF ERIN. 

T. CAMPBELL. 

7 There | came to the | beach | 7 a poor [ exile of 

Erin, | 
7 The dew on his | thin | robe | 7 was | heavy and 

chill; | | 
10 



US EXERCISES. 

1 For his | country he | sighed, | 1 when at | twilight 
re | pairing, | 

7 To | wander a | lone | 1 by the I wind-beaten I 
hill. Ml 

1 But the | day-star | 1 at | tracted his | eye's sad de | 
votion; | 

7 For it | rose | 1 on his | own native | isle of the | 

ocean, | 
7 Where | once | 7 in the | fervor of | youth's | warm 

e | motion | 
7 He | sung the bold | anthem | 7 of | Erin go | 

bragh. | | | 
Sad is my | fate! | 7 (said the | heart | broken | stran- 
ger) | 
7 The | wild-deer and | wolf | 7 to a I covert can I 

flee, | 
1 But | I have no | refuge | 7 from | famine and | 

danger, | 
7 A | home, and a | country | 1 re | main not to I 

me. | | | 
Never a | gain- 1 7 in the | green | sunny | bowers | 
7 Where my | forefathers | liv'd | 7 shall I | spend the 

sweet | hours | 
7 Or | cover my | harp | 7 with the | wild woven | 

flowers | 
7 And | strike to the | numbers | 7 of | Erin go | 

bragh. | | | 
Erin! | 7 my | country! | 7 though | sad and for | 

saken, | 
7 In | dreams | 1 I re | visit thy | sea-beaten | shore: | 
7 But a |las! p in a | far foreign | land I a | waken, | 
1 And | sigh for the | friends | 7 that can | meet me 

no | more. | | | 



EXERCISES. 119 

Oh! | cruel | fate! | 1 wilt thou | never re | place me | 
1 In a | mansion of | peace, | 1 where no | perils can 

v | chase me? | 
Never a j gain shall my | brothers em | brace me, | 
1 They | died to de | fend me, | 1 or | live to de | 

plore. | | | 
Where is my | cabin | door, | fast by the | wild | 

wood? | 
Sisters and | sire, | 1 did ye | weep for its | fall? | | 
Where is the | mother that | looked on my | child- 
hood? | | | 
1 And | where is the | bosom | friend, | dearer than | 

alI?M| 
Ah! | T my | sad | soul, | long a | bandoned by | 

pleasure, | 
Why did it | doat on a | fast-fading | treasure? | 
Tears, | 1 like the | rain-drops, | 1 may | fall without 

| measure, | 
1 But | rapture and | beauty | 1 they | cannot re | 

call. | | | 
Yet 1 | all its | fond 1 1 recol | lections sup | pressing 1 1 
One | dying | wish | 1 my | lone | bosom shall | 

draw. | j 
Erin! | 1 an | exile 1 1 be | queaths thee his | blessing | | 
Land of my | forefathers! | | Erin go | bragh! | 
Buried and | cold, | 1 when my | heart | stills her | 

motion, | | 
Green be thy | fields | sweetest | isle of the | ocean | 
1 And thy | harp-striking | bards | sing a | loud with 

de | votion | 
Erin | 1 ma | vournin! | Erin | go | bragh. | 



120 EXERCISES. 

EXERCISE VI. 

LUCY. — Wordsworth. 

Three | years | 1 she | grew, | 1 in | sun and | show- 

er, || 

Then | nature | said, | 1 i a | lovelier | flower | 

1 On | earth | T was | never | sown: | 
This | child | I to my | self | 1 will | take; | | 
| She shall be | mine, | | and I will | make | 
7 A | lady | 1 of my | own. | | | 

' 1 My | self | will to my | darling | | be, | 

1 Both | law and | impulse: | | 1 and with | me | 

1 The | girl | T in | rock | 1 and | plain, | 
1 In | earth and | heaven, | 1 in | glade and | bower, 
1 Shall | feel | T an | over | seeing | power | 
1 To | kindle | 1 and re | strain. | 

T She shall be | sportive | 1 as the | fawn | 

1 That | wild with | glee | 1 a | cross the | lawn [ 

1 Or | up the | mountain | | springs; | 
1 And | hers | T shall | be the | breathing | balm, | 
7 And | hers | 1 the | silence | 1 and the | calm | 

1 Of | mute in | sensate | things. | | | 

' 1 The | floating | clouds | T their | state shall | lend 
7 To | her; | | 1 for | her | 1 the | willow | bend; | | 

Nor shall she | fail to | see, | 
Even in the | motions | 1 of the | storm | 
Grace | 1 that shall | mould | 1 the | maiden's | form, 

1 By | silent | sympathy. | | [ 



EXERCISES. 121 

| 1 l The | stars of | midnight | 1 shall be | dear | 
T To | her; | | and she shall | lean her ear | 

1 In | many a | secret | place, | 
1 Where | rivulets | dance their | wayward | round; 1 1 
1 And | beauty, | | born of | murmuring | sound, | 

1 Shall | pass | into her | face. | 

1 ' And | vital | feelings of de | light | 

1 Shall | rear her | form | 1 to | stately | height; | 

1 Her | virgin | bosom | swell; | | 
Such | thoughts P to | Lucy | 1 I will | give, | 
1 While | she and | I | 1 to | gether | live | 

Here | 1 in this | happy | dell. ' \ \ \ 

Thus | Nature | spake. | | 1 The | work | 1 was | 

done. Ill 
1 How | soon | 1 my | Lucy's | race 1 1 was | run. | | 

1 She | died, | | 1 and | left to | me | 
1 This | heath, | 1 this | calm and | quiet | scene; | | 
| 1 The | memory of | what | has | been, | 

I 1 And I never I more I will I be. I I 



EXERCISE VII. 

PAPER.— A CONVERSATIONAL PLEASANTRY. 
DR. FRANKLIN. 

Some | wit of | old, | | such | wits of | old there | 

were, | 
1 Whose | hints | 1 showed | meaning, | 1 whose 

al | lusions | care, I 
10* 



122 EXERCISES. 

1 By | one | brave | stroke | 1 to | mark all | human 

kind, | 
Called | clear | blank | paper | every | infant | mind; | 
Where | still, | 7 as | opening | sense | 1 her | dictates 

| wrote, | 
Fair | Virtue | put a | seal; | 1 or | Vice, | 1 a 

blot. Ml' 
7 The | thought was | happy, | pertinent, | and 

true! | | 
1 Me | thinks a | genius | 1 might the | plan pur 

sue. | || 
I, | 1 (can you | pardon my pre | sumption?) | | I 
No | wit, 1 | no | genius, | yet for | once, | 1 will 

try- I I I 

Various the | paper, | various | wants pro | duce; | 
1 The | wants of | fashion | elegance | 1 and | use. 1 1 
Men | 1 are as | various; | 7 and if | right I | scan, 
Each | sort of | paper | | repre | sents | some | man. 1 1 
Pray | note the | fop; | | half | powder | 7 and | half 

lace! | | 
Nice as a | bandbox | 7 were | his | dwelling 

place. | | | 
He's the | gilt | paper, | 7 which a | part you | store, 
7 And | lock from | vulgar | hands | 7 in the scru 

toire. | 
7 Me | chanics, | servants, | farmers, | 7 and | so forth | 
7 Are | copy | paper, | 7 of in | ferior | worth; | 
Less | prized, | | more | useful; | 7 for your | desk 

de | creed; | | 
Free to | all | pens, | 7 and | prompt at | every I 

need. I I I 



EXERCISES. 123 

1 The | wretch | 1 whom | avarice | | bids to | pinch 

and | spare, | | 
| Starve, | cheat | 1 and | pilfer, | 1 to en | rich an [ 

heir, | 
1 Is | coarse | brown | paper; | | such as | pedlars | 

choose | 
1 To | wrap up | wares | 1 which | better | men | 1 

will | use. | | | 
Take | next \1 the | miser's | contrast; | 1 who | 

de | stroys | 
Health, | fame and | fortune | 1 in a | round of | 

j°y s - I I I 

1 Will | any | paper | match | him? | | Yes, | 1 

through | out; | 
He's a | true | sinking | paper, | | past | all | doubt. 1 1 
1 The | retail | poli | tician's | anxious | thought | 
Deems | this side | always | right, | 1 and | that | 

stark | naught: | 
1 He | foams with | censure; | T with ap | plause he 

| raves; | | | 
1 A | dupe to | rumors, | 1 and a | tool to | 

knaves; | 
He'll | want | no | type \ 1 his | weakness | to pro | 

claim, | 
1 While | such a | thing as | fools-cap | 1 has a | 

name. | 
1 The | hasty | gentleman, | 7 whose | blood runs | 

high; | 
1 Who | picks a | quarrel | 1 if you | step a | wry; | 
1 Who | can't a | jest, | 1 a | hint, | 1 or | look en j 

dure! I 



124 EXERCISES. 

| What is | he? | What! | | Touch-paper | 1 to be i 

sure. | 
What are our | poets? | | take them | 1 as they | fall, | 
Good, | bad, | rich, | poor; | much read, | not read 

at | all! | | 
Them | 1 and their | works | 1 in the | same | class | 

1 you'll | find: | | 
They are the | mere | waste-paper | 1 of man | 

kind. | | | 
1 Ob | serve the | maiden | | (innocently | sweet)! 
She's | fair | white | paper! | 1 an un | sullied | 

sheet; | | 
1 On | which | 1 the | happy | man | T whom | fate 

or | dains | 
1 May | write his | name, | 1 and | take her for his | 

pains. | | | 
One | instance | more, | 1 and | only | one | T I'll | 

bring! | 
'Tis the | great | man | 1 who | scorns a | little | 

thing; | | 
1 Whose | thought, | 1 whose | deeds, | 1 whose | 

maxims | 1 are his | own; | 
Formed | on the | feelings | 1 of his | heart a | 

lone: | | | 
True, | genuine, | royal | paper, | 1 is | his | breast; || 
1 Of | all the | kinds | | most | precious, | | purest, | | 

best! I I I 



EXERCISES. 125 

EXERCISE VIII. 
BATTLE OF H A STI NGS . — Lingard. 

The spot which Harold had selected for this im- 
portant contest, was called Senlac, nine miles from 
Hastings, an eminence opening to the south, and cov- 
ered on the back by an extensive wood. As his 
troops arrived, he posted them on the declivity, in 
one compact and immense mass. In the centre, 
waved the royal standard, the figure of a warrior in 
the act of fighting, worked in thread of gold, and or- 
namented with precious stones. By its side, stood 
Harold and his two brothers Gurth and Leofwin; and, 
around them, the rest of the army, every man on 
foot. In this arrangement, the king seems to have 
adopted, as far as circnmstanc.es would permit, the 
plan which had lately proved so fatal to the Norweg- 
ians, and which now, from the same causes, was pro- 
ductive of a similar result. 

Probably he feared the shock of the numerous cav- 
alry of the Normans. Both men and horses were 
completely cased in armor, which gave to their charge 
an irresistible weight, and rendered them almost in- 
vulnerable by ordinary weapons. For the purpose 
of opposing them with more chance of success, 
Harold had brought with him engines to discharge 
stones into their ranks, and had recommended to his 
soldiers to confine themselves, in close fight, to the 
use of the battle-axe, a heavy and murderous weapon. 

On the opposite hill, William was employed in 
marshalling his host. In the front, he placed the 



126 EXERCISE'S. 

archers and bowmen: the second line was composed 
of heavy infantry, clothed in coats of mail; and, be- 
hind these, the duke arranged, in five divisions, the 
hope and the pride of the Norman force, the knights 
and the men at arms. About nine in the morning, 
the army began to move, crossed the interval be- 
tween the two hills, and slowly ascended the emi- 
nence on which the English were posted. The Pa- 
pal banner, as an omen of victory, w T as carried in the 
front, by Toustain the fair, a dangerous honor, which 
two of the Norman barons had successively declined. 
At the moment when the armies were ready to 
engage, the Normans raised the national shout of 
c God is our help,' which was as loudly answered by 
the adverse cry of ' Christ's rood, the holy rood.' 
The archers, after the discharge of their arrows, 
retired to the infantry, whose weak and extended 
line was unable to make any impression on their 
more numerous opponents. William ordered the 
cavalry to charge. The shock was dreadful : but 
the English, in every point, opposed a solid and im- 
penetrable mass. Neither buckler nor corslet would 
withstand the stroke of the battle axe, wielded by a 
powerful arm, and with unerring aim ; and the con- 
fidence of the Normans melted away at the view of 
their own loss, and the bold countenance of their 
enemies. 

After a short pause, the horse and foot of the left 
wing betook themselves to flight : their opponents 
eagerly pursued ; and a report was spread that Wil- 
liam himself had fallen. The whole army began to 
waver; when the duke, with his helmet in his hand, 



EXERCISES. 127 

rode along the line exclaiming, c I am still alive, and, 
with the help of God, I shall still conquer.' The 
presence and confidence of their commander reviv- 
ed the hopes of the Normans; and the speedy de- 
struction of the English, who had pursued the fugi- 
tives, was fondly magnified into an assurance of vic- 
tory. These brave, but incautious men had, on 
their return, been intercepted by a numerous body 
of cavalry; and, on foot and in confusion, they 
quickly disappeared beneath the swords, or rather 
the horses, of the enemy. Not a man survived the 
carnage. 

William led his troops again to the attack: but the 
English column, dense and immoveable as a rock 
amidst the waves, resisted every assault. Disap- 
pointed and perplexed, the Norman had recourse to 
a stratagem, suggested by his success in the earlier 
part of the day. He ordered a division of horse 
to flee: they were pursued; and the temerity of the 
pursuers was punished with instant destruction. 
The same feint was tried with equal success in an- 
other part of the field. These losses might diminish 
the numbers of the English; but the main body ob- 
stinately maintained its position, and bade defiance 
to every effort of the Normans. 

During the engagement, William had given the 
most signal proofs of personal bravery. Three 
horses had been killed under him, and he had been 
compelled to grapple on foot with his adversaries. 
Harold had also animated his followers, both by 
word and example, and had displayed a courage 
worthy of the crown for which he was fighting. His 



128 EXERCISES. 

brothers Gurth and Leofvvin had perished already; 
but as long as he survived, no man entertained the 
apprehension of defeat or admitted the idea of flight. 
A little before sunset an arrow, shot at random, en- 
tered his eye. He instantly fell; and the knowledge 
of his fall relaxed the efforts of the English. 

Twenty Normans undertook to seize the royal 
banner; and effected their purpose, but with the loss 
of half their number. One of them, who maimed 
with his sword the dead body of the king, was after- 
wards disgraced by William, for his brutality. At 
dusk, the English broke up, and dispersed through 
the wood. 

As William, attracted by the cries of the combat- 
ants, was hastening to the place, he met Eustace of 
Boulogne and fifty knights, fleeing with all their 
speed. He called on them to stop; but the earl, 
while he was in the act of whispering into the ear of 
the duke, received a stroke on the back, which forc- 
ed the blood out of his mouth and nostrils. He was 
carried in a state of insensibility to his tent. Wil- 
liam's intrepidity hurried him forward to the scene 
of danger; his presence encouraged his men; suc- 
cors arrived; and the English, after an obstinate re- 
sistance, were repulsed. 

On the side of the victors, almost sixty thousand 
men had been engaged, and more than one-fourth 
were left on the field. The number of the vanquish- 
ed, and the amount of their loss, are unknown. By 
the vanity of the Norman historians, the English 
army has been exaggerated beyond the limits of cred- 
ibility: by that of the native writers it has been re- 



EXERCISES. 129 

duced to a handful of resolute warriors: but both 
agree, that with Harold and his brothers perished all 
the nobility of the south of England; a loss which 
could not be repaired. 

The king's mother begged as a boon the dead body 
of her son, and offered as a ransom its weight in 
gold; but the resentment of William had rendered 
him callous to pity, and insensible to all interested 
considerations. He ordered the corpse of the fallen 
monarch to be buried on the beach; adding, with a 
sneer, ' He guarded the coast while he was alive; let 
him continue to guard it after death.' By stealth, 
bowever, or by purchase, the royal remains were 
removed from this unhallowed site, and deposited in 
the church at Waltham, which Harold had founded 
before he ascended the throne. 



EXERCISE IX. 

DISCOVERY OF AMERICA BY COLUMBUS.— RobtrtSOn, 

On Friday, the third day of August, in the year one 
thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Columbus 
set sail from Palos, in Spain, a little before sunrise, 
in presence of a vast crowd of spectators, who sent 
up their supplications to Heaven for the prosperous 
issue of the voyage ; which they wished, rather than 
expected. 

His squadron, if it merit that name, consisted of 
no more than three small vessels — the Santa Maria, 
the Pinta, and the Nigna — having on board ninety 
11 



130 EXERCISES. 

men, mostly sailors, together with a few adventurers, 
who followed the fortune of Columbus, and some 
gentlemen of the Spanish court, whom the queen ap- 
pointed to accompany him. 

He steered directly for the Canary Islands ; from 
which, after refitting his ships, and supplying himself 
with fresh provisions, he took his departure on the 
sixth day of September. Here the voyage of dis- 
covery may properly be said to have begun ; for Co- 
lumbus, holding his course due west, left immediate- 
ly the usual track of navigation, and stretched into 
unfrequented and unknown seas. 

The first day, as it was very calm, he made bitf 
little way , but, on the second, he lost sight of the 
Canaries ; and many of the sailors, already dejected 
and dismayed, when they contemplated the boldness 
of the undertaking, began to beat their breasts, and 
to shed tears, as if they were never more to behold 
land. Columbus comforted them with assurances of 
success, and the prospect of vast wealth in those 
opulent regions, whither he was conducting them. 

This early discovery of the spirit of his followers 
taught Columbus that he must prepare to struggle, 
not only with the unavoidable difficulties which might 
be expected from the nature of his undertaking, but 
with such as were likely to arise from the ignorance 
and timidity of the people under his command ; and 
he perceived, that the art of governing the minds of 
men would be no less requisite for accomplishing the 
discoveries which he had in view, than naval skill 
and an enterprizing courage. 

Happily for himself, and for the country by which 



EXERCISES. 131 

he was employed, he joined to the ardent temper 
and inventive genius of a projector, virtues of anoth- 
er species, which are rarely united with them. He 
possessed a thorough knowledge of mankind, an in- 
sinuating address, a patient perseverance in execut- 
ing any plan, the perfect government of his own pas- 
sions, and the talent of acquiring the direction of 
other men. 

All these qualities, which formed him for com- 
mand, were accompanied with that superior know- 
ledge of his profession which begets confidence in 
times of difficulty and danger. To unskilful Spanish 
sailors, accustomed only to coasting voyages in the 
Mediterranean, the maritime science of Columbus, 
the fruit of thirty years' experience, appeared im- 
mense. As soon as they put to sea, he regulated 
every thing by his sole authority ; he superintended 
the execution of every order, and, allowing himself 
only a few hours for sleep, he was, at all other 
times, upon deck. 

As his course lay through seas which had not been 
visited before, the sounding line or instruments for 
observation, were continually in his hands. He at- 
tended to the motion of the tides and currents, watch- 
ed the flight of birds, the appearance of fishes, of sea- 
weeds, and of every thing that floated on the waves, 
and actually noted every occurrence in a journal that 
he kept. 

By the fourteenth day of September, the fleet was 
above two hundred leagues to the west of the Cana- 
ry Isles, a greater distance from land than any Span- 
iard had ever been before that time. Here the sail? 



132 EXERCISES. 

ors were struck with an appearance no less astonish- 
ing than new. They observed that the magnetic 
needle, in their compasses, did not point exactly to 
the north star, but varied towards the west. 

This appearance, which is now familiar, filled the 
companions of Columbus with terror. They were 
in an ocean boundless and unknown : nature itself 
seemed to be altered, and the only guide which they 
had left, was 'about to fail them. Columbus, with 
no less quickness than ingenuity, invented a reason 
for this appearance, which, though it did not satisfy 
himself, seemed so plausible to them, that it dispell- 
ed their fears, and silenced their murmurs. 

On the first of October, they were about seven 
hundred and seventy leagues west of the Canaries. 
They had now been above three weeks at sea ; all 
their prognostics of discovery, drawn from the flight 
of birds, and other circumstances, had proved falla- 
cious, and their prospect of success seemed now to 
be as distant as ever. The spirit of discontent and 
of mutiny began to manifest itself among the sail- 
ors, and, by degrees, the contagion spread from ship 
to ship. 

All agreed, that Columbus should be compelled, 
by force, to return, while their crazy vessels were 
yet in a condition to keep the sea ; and some even 
proposed to throw him overboard, as the most expe- 
ditious method of getting rid of his remonstrances, 
and of securing a seasonable return to their native land. 

Columbus was fully sensible of his perilous situation. 
He perceived that it would be of no avail to have 
recourse to any of his former expedients to lead on 



fexfeRCISES. 133 

the hopes of his companions, and that it was impos- 
sible to rekindle any zeal for the success of the ex- 
pedition, among men, in whose breasts fear had ex- 
tinguished every generous sentiment. 

He found it necessary to soothe passions, which[he 
could no longer command, and to give way to a tor- 
rent too impetuous to be checked. He accordingly 
promised his men, that he would comply with their 
request, provided they would accompany him, and 
obey his commands, for three days longer ; and if 
during that time, land were not discovered, he would 
then abandon the enterprize, and direct his course 
towards Spain. 

Enraged as the sailors were, and impatient as they 
were of returning to their native country, this propo- 
sition did not appear to them unreasonable : nor did 
Columbus hazard much in confining himself to a time 
so short ; for the presages of discovering land had 
become so numerous and promising, that he deemed 
them infallible. 

For some days, the sounding line had reached the 
bottom ; and the soil, which it brought up, indicated 
land to be at no great distance. The flocks of birds 
increased, and were composed not only of sea-fowl, 
but of such land-birds as could not be supposed to 
fly far from the shore. 

The crew of the Pinta observed a cane floating, 
which seemed to have been newly cut, and likewise 
a piece of timber, artificially carved. The sailors 
aboard the Nigna took up the branch of a tree, with 
red berries, perfectly fresh. The clouds around the 
setting sun assumed a new appearance ; the air was 
11* 



134 EXERCISES. 

more mild and warm ; and, during night, the wind 
became unequal and variable. 

From all these symptoms, Columbus was so con- 
fident of being near land, that, on the evening of the 
eleventh of October, after public prayers for success, 
he ordered the sails to be furled, and strict watch to 
be kept, lest the ship should be driven ashore in the 
night. During this interval of suspense and expecta- 
tion, no man shut his eyes ; all kept upon deck, gaz- 
ing intently towards that quarter where they expected 
to discover the land, which had been so long the ob- 
ject of their wishes. 

About two hours before midnight, Columbus, stand- 
ing on the forecastle, observed a light at a distance, 
and privately pointed it out to two of his people. AH 
three saw it in motion, as if it were carried from place 
to place. A little after midnight, the joyful sound of 
Land! land! was heard from the Pinta. But, hav- 
ing been so often deceived by fallacious appearances, 
they had now become slow of belief, and waited, in 
all the anguish of uncertainty and impatience, for the 
return of day. 

As soon as morning dawned, their doubts and fears 
were dispelled. They beheld an island about two 
leagues to the north, whose flat and verdant fields, 
well stored with wood, and watered with many rivu- 
lets, presented to them the aspect of a delightful 
country. The crew of the Pinta instantly began a 
hymn of thanksgiving to God, and were joined, by 
those of the other ships, with tears of joy and trans- 
ports of congratulation. 

This office of gratitude to Heaven was followed by 



EXERCISES. 135 

an act of justice to their commander. They threw 
themselves at the feet of Columbus, with feelings of 
self-condemnation mingled with reverence. They 
implored him to pardon their ignorance, incredulity, 
and insolence, which had created him so much unne- 
cessary disquiet, and had so often obstructed the 
prosecution of his well-concerted plan ; and passing, 
in the warmth of their admiration, from one extreme 
to another, they now pronounced the man, whom 
they had so lately reviled and threatened, to be a 
person inspired by Heaven with sagacity and forti- 
tude more than human, in order to accomplish a de- 
sign so far beyond the ideas and conceptions of alt 
former ages. 

As soon as the sun arose, all the boats were manned 
and armed. They rowed towards the island with 
their colors displayed, warlike music, and other mar- 
tial pomp ; and, as they approached the coast, they 
saw it covered with a multitude of people, whom the 
novelty of the spectacle had drawn together, and 
whose attitudes and gestures expressed wonder and 
astonishment at the strange objects which presented 
themselves to their view. 

Columbus was the first European who set foot in 
the New World, which he had discovered. He land- 
ed in a rich dress, and with a naked sword inhis 
hand. His men followed, and kneeling down, they 
all kissed the ground which they had long desired to* 
see. 

They next erected a crucifix, and, prostrating them- 
selves before it, returned thanks to God for conduct- 
ing their voyage to such a happy issue. They then 



1S6 EXERCISES. 

took solemn possession of the country for the crown 
of Castile and Leon, with all the formalities with 
which the Portuguese were accustomed to take pos- 
session of their new discoveries. 

The Spaniards, while thus employed, were sur- 
rounded by many of the natives, who gazed, in silent 
•admiration, upon actions which they could not com- 
prehend, and of which they did not foresee the conse- 
quences. The dress of the Spaniards, the whiteness 
of their skins, their beards, their arms, appeared 
strange and surprising. 

The vast machines, in which they had traversed 
the ocean, that seemed to move upon the water with 
wings, and uttered a dreadful sound, resembling thun- 
der, accompanied with lightning and smoke, struck 
them with such terror, that they began to respect their 
new guests as a superior order of beings, and con- 
cluded that they were children of the sun, who had 
descended to visit the earth. 

The Europeans were hardly less amazed at the 
scene now before them. Every herb, and shrub, and 
tree, was different from those which flourished in 
Europe. The soil seemed to be rich, but bore few 
marks of cultivation. The climate, even to Span- 
iards, felt warm, though extremely delightful. 

The inhabitants were entirely naked: their black 
hair, long and uncurled, floated upon their shoulders, 
or was bound in tresses around their head: they had 
no beads; their complexion was of a dusky copper 
color; their features singular, rather than disagree- 
able; their aspect gentle and timid. 

Though not tall, they were well shaped and active. 



EXERCISES. 137 

Their faces, and other parts of their body, were fan- 
tastically painted with glaring colors. They were 
shy at first, through fear, but soon became familiar 
with the Spaniards, and, with transports of joy, re- 
ceived from them hawks' bells, glass beads, and 
other baubles; in return for which they gave such 
provisions as they had, and some cotton yarn, the 
only commodity of value which they could produce. 
Towards evening, Columbus returned to his ships, 
accompanied by many of the islanders in their boats, 
which they called canoes; and, though rudely formed 
out of the trunk of a single tree, they rowed them 
with surprising dexterity. Thus, in the first inter- 
view between the inhabitants of the Old World and 
those of the New, every thing was conducted amica- 
bly, and to their mutual satisfaction. The former, 
enlightened and ambitious, formed already vast ideas 
with respect to the advantages which they might 
derive from those regions that began to open to their 
view. The latter, simple and undiscerning, had no 
foresight of the calamities and desolation, which were 
now approaching their country. 



EXERCISE X. 

THE RAISING OF LAZARUS. 

Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of 
Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. 
(It was that Mary which anointed the Lord with oint- 
ment, and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother 
Lazarus was sick.) Therefore his sisters sent unto 



138 EXERCISES. 

him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is 
sick. 

When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is 
not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son 
of God might be glorified thereby. Now Jesus loved 
Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When he had 
heard, therefore, that he was sick, he abode two days 
still in the same place where he was. Then after 
that, saith he to his disciples, Let us go into Judea 
again. 

His disciples say unto him, Master, the Jews of 
late sought to stone thee ; and goest thou thither 
again? Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours 
in the day? If any man walk in the day he stumbleth 
not, because he seeth the light of this world. But if 
a man walk in the night he stumbleth, because there 
*s no light in him. These things said he : and after 
that he saith unto them, Our friend Lazarus sleepeth ; 
but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep. 

Then said his disciples, Lord, if he sleep he shall 
do well. Howbeit, Jesus spake of his death ; but 
they thought that he had spoken of taking of rest in 
sleep. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus 
is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was no t 
here, to the intent ye may believe : nevertheless, let 
us go unto him. 

Then said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto 
his fellow-disciples, Let us also go, that we may die 
with him. Then when Jesus came, he found that he 
had lain in the grave four days already. (Now Beth- 
any was nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs 



EXERCISER 139 

off.) And many of the Jews came to Martha and 
Mary, to comfort them concerning their brother. 

Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was 
coming, went and met him ; but Mary sat still in the 
house. Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord ; if thou 
hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I 
know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of 
God, God will give it thee. Jesus saith unto her. 
Thy brother shall rise again. Martha saith unto him, 
I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at 
the last day. 

Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the 
life : he that believeth in me, though he were dead, 
yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and believeth 
in me shall never die. Believest thou this ? She 
saith unto him, Yea, Lord, I believe that thou art the 
Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the 
world. And when she had so said, she went her 
wey, and called Mary her sister secretly, saying, the 
Master is come and calleth for thee. As soon as 
she heard that, she arose quickly, and came unto him. 

Now Jesus was not yet come into the town, but 
was in that place where Martha met him. The Jews 
then, which were with her in the house, and com- 
forted her, when they saw Mary that she arose up 
hastily, and went out, followed her, saying, She go- 
eth unto the grave to weep there. Then when Ma- 
ry was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell 
down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou 
hadst been here, my brother had not died. 

When Jesus, therefore, saw her weeping, and the 
Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned 
in the spirit^ and was troubled ; and said, Where have 



140 EXERCISES. 

ye laid him ? They say unto him, Lord, come and 
see. Jesus wept. Then said the Jews, Behold how 
he loved him ! And some of them said, Could not 
this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have 
caused that even this man should not have died ? Je- 
sus, therefore, again groaning in himself, cometh to 
the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it. 

Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the 
sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by 
this time he stinketh ; for he hath been dead four days. 
Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if 
thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory of 
God ? Then they took away the stone from the place 
where the dead was laid. And .Tesus lifted up his eyes, 
and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard 
me ; and I knew that thou hearest me always ; but 
because of the people which stand by I said it, that 
they may be ieve t ; t thou hast spnt me. 

And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a 
loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was 
dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave- 
clothes ; and his face was bound about with a napkin. 
Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, ai d 'et him go. 
Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and 
had seen the things which Jesus did, believed on him. 



EXERCISE XI, 



DEATH OF ELI. 



And the word of Samuel came to all Israel. Now 
I rael went out £ gainst the Philistines to battle, and 



EXERCISES. 141 

pkched beside Eben-ezer ; and the Philistines pitch- 
ed in Aphek. And the Philistines put themselves 
in array against Israel ; and, when they joined battle, 
Israel was smitten before the Philistines ; and they 
slew of the army in the field about four thousand men. 

And when the people were come into the camp, 
the elders of Israel said, Wherefore hath the Lord 
smitten us to-day before the Philistines ; Let us fetch 
the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of Shiloh un- 
to us that, when it cometh among us, it may save us 
out of the hand of our enemies. So the people sent 
to Shiloh, that they might bring from thence the ark 
of the covenant of the Lord of hosts, which dwelleth 
between the cherubim: and the two sons of Eli, 
Hophni and Phinehas, were there, with the ark of 
the covenant of God. 

And when the ark of the covenant of the Lord came 
into the camp, all Israel shouted with a great shout, 
so that the earth rang again. And when the Philistines 
heard the noise of the shout, they said, What mean- 
eth the noise of this great shout in the camp of the 
Hebrews ? And they understood that the ark of the 
Lord was come into the camp. 

And the Philistines were afraid ; for they said, 
God is come into the camp. And they said, Woe un- 
to us! for there hath not been such a thing heretofore. 
Woe unto us! who shall deliver us out of the hand of 
these mighty Gods ? these are the Gods that smote 
the Egyptians with all the plagues in the wilderness. 
Be strong, and quit yourselves like men, ye Philis- 
tines, that ye be not servants unto the Hebrews, as they 
have been to you : quit yourselves like men, and fight. 
12 



142 EXERCISES. 

And the Philistines fought, and Israel was smitten, 
and they fled every man into his tent ; and there was 
a very great slaughter ; for there fell of Israel thirty 
thousand footmen. And the ark of God was taken ; 
and the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were 
slain. And there ran a man of Benjamin out of the 
army, and came to Shiloh the same day, with his 
clothes rent, and with earth upon his head. 

And when he came, lo, Eli sat upon a seat by the 
way-side, watching ; for his heart trembled for the 
ark of God. And when the man came into the city 
and told it, all the city cried out. And when Eli 
heard the noise of the crying, he said, What meaneth 
the noise of this tumult ? And the man came in hast- 
ily, and told Eli. Now Eli was ninety and eight years 
old ; and his eyes were dim, that he could not see. 

And the man said unto Eli, I am he that came out 
of the army, and I fled to-day out of the army. And 
he said, What is there done, my son ? And the 
messenger answered and said, Israel is fled before the 
Philistines, and there hath been also a great slaughter 
among the people ; and thy two sons also, Hophni 
and Phinehas, are dead ; and the ark of God is taken. 
And it came to. pass, when he made mention of the 
ark of God, that he fell off the seat backward, by 
the side of the gate, and his neck brake, and he died: 
for he was an old man, and heavy. And he had judged 
srael forty years. 



EXERCISES. 143 

EXERCISE XII. 

the confession. — From the Episcopal Service, 

Almighty and most merciful Father, — we have err- 
ed and strayed from thy ways, like lost sheep. We 
have followed too much the devices and desires of 
our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy 
law. We have left undone those things which we 
ought to have done, and we have done those things 
which we ought not to have done : and there is no 
health in us. — But thou, Lord, have mercy upon 
us, miserable offenders. Spare thou those, God, 
who confess their faults. Restore thou those who 
are penitent ; according to thy promises, declared 
unto mankind through Christ Jesus, our Lord. And 
grant, most merciful Father, for his sake, that we 
may hereafter live a godly, righteous and sober life, 
to the glory of thy holy name. Amen. 



EXERCISE XIII. 

EXTRACT FROM A SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN 
ADAMS, IN SUPPORT OF AMERICAN INDEPEN- 
DENCE. — Daniel Webster. 

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give 
my hand, and my heart, to this vote. It is true, in- 
deed, that in the beginning, we aimed not at Inde- 
pendence. But there's a Divinity which shapes our 



144 EXERCISES. 

ends. The injustice of England has driven us to 
arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good? 
she has obstinately persisted, till Independence is now 
within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it f 
and it is ours. Why then should we defer the De- 
claration ? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a 
reconciliation with England ? Do we mean to sub- 
mit to the measures of Parliament, Boston port-bill 
and all ? I know we do not mean to submit. We 
never shall submit. 

The war, then, must go on. We must fight it 
through. And if the war must go on, why put off 
longer the Declaration of Independence ? That mea- 
sure will strengthen us. It will give us character 
abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which 
they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves 
subjects, in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I 
maintain that England herself, will sooner treat for 
peace with us on the footing of Independence, than 
consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that 
her whole conduct towards us has been a course of 
injustice and oppression. 

Sir, the Declaration will inspire the people with 
increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody 
war, for restoration of privileges, for redress of 
grievances, for chartered immunities held under a 
British king, — set before them the glorious object of 
entire Independence, and it will breathe into them 
anew the breath of life. Read this Declaration at 
the head of the army : every sword will be drawn 
from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered to 
maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honor. Pub* 



EXERCISES. 145 

lish it from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and 
the love of religious liberty will cling round it, resolv- 
ed to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the 
public halls ; proclaim it there ; let them hear it, who 
heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon : let them 
see it, who saw their brothers and their sons fall on 
the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lex- 
ington and Concord, — and the very walls will cry out 
in its support. 

Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My 
judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart 
is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all 
that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake 
upon it ; and I leave off as I begun, that, live or die, 
survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is 
my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God it 
shall be my dying sentiment ; — Independence now ; 

and INDEPENDENCE FOREVER. 



EXERCISE XIV. 

SPEECH OF MR. PLUNKET, ON THE IRISH UNION. 

Sir — I, in the most express terms, deny the com- 
petency of parliament to abolish the legislature of Ire- 
land. I warn you, do not dare to lay your hand on 
the constitution — I tell you, that if, circumstanced as 
you are, you pass an act which surrenders the gov- 
ernment of Ireland to the English parliament, it will 
be a nullity, and that no man in Ireland will be 
bound to obey it. I make the assertion deliberately 
12* 



146 EXERCISES. 

— I repeat it, and I call on any man who hears me, 
to take down my words ; — you have not been elect- 
ed for this purpose — you are appointed to make laws? 
and not legislatures — you are appointed to act under 
the constitution, not to alter it — you are appointed to 
exercise the functions of legislators, and not to trans- 
fer them — and if you do so, your act is a dissolution 
of the government — you resolve society into its orig- 
inal elements, and no man in the land is bound to 
obey you. 

Sir, I state doctrines which are not merely found- 
ed in the immutable laws of justice and of truth. I 
state not merely the opinions of the ablest men who 
have written on the science of government ; but I 
state the practice of our constitution, as settled at the 
era of the revolution, and I state the doctrine under 
which the house of Hanover derives its title to the 
throne. Has the king a right to transfer his crown ? 
Is he competent to annex it to the crown of Spain, 
or any other country ? No — but he may abdicate 
it ; and every man who knows the constitution knows 
the consequence — the right reverts to the next in 
succession — if they all abdicate, it reverts to the peo- 
ple. The man who questions this doctrine, in the 
same breath must arraign the sovereign on the throne 
as an usurper. Are you competent to transfer your 
legislative rights to the French council of five hund- 
red ? Are you competent to transfer them to the 
British parliament ? I answer, No. When you 
transfer you abdicate, and the great original trust re- 
verts to the people from whom it issued. Your- 
selves you may extinguish, but parliament you can- 



EXERCISES. 147 

not extinguish — it is enthroned in the hearts of the 
people — -it is enshrined in the sanctuary of the con- 
stitution—it is immortal as the island which it pro- 
tects. As well might the frantic suicide hope that 
the act which destroys his miserable body should ex- 
tinguish his eternal soul. Again, I therefore warn 
you. do not dare to lay your hands on the constitu- 
tion ; it is above your power. Sir, I do not say 
that the parliament and the people, by mutual con- 
sent and co-operation, may not change the form of 
the constitution. Whenever such a case arises it 
must be decided on its own merits — but that is not 
this case. If government considers this a season pe- 
culiarly fitted for experiments on the constitution, 
they may call on the people. I ask you, are you 
ready to do so ? Are you ready to abide the event 
of such an appeal ? What is it you must, in that 
event, submit to the people ? Not this particular pro- 
ject ; for if you dissolve the present form of govern- 
ment, they become free to choose any other — you 
fling them to the fury of the tempest — you must call 
on them to unhouse themselves of the established 
constitution, and to fashion to themselves another. 
I ask again, is this the time for an experiment of that 
nature ? 

Thank God, the people have manifested no such 
wish — so far as they have spoken, their voice is de- 
cidedly against this daring innovation. You know 
that no voice has been uttered in its favor, and you 
cannot be infatuated enough to take confidence from 
the silence which prevails in some parts of the king- 
dom ; if you know how to appreciate that silence it 



148 EXERCISES. 

is more formidable than the most clamorous opposi- 
tion — you may be rived and shivered by the light- 
ning, before you hear the peal of the thunder ! But, 
sir, we are told we should discuss this question with 
calmness and composure. I am called on to surren- 
der my birthright and my honor, aud I am told I 
should be calm, composed. 

National pride ! Independence of our country ! 
These, we are told by the minister, are only vulgar 
topics, fitted for the meridian of the mob, but un- 
worthy to be mentioned in such an enlightened as- 
sembly as this ; they are trinkets and gewgaws fit 
to catch the fancy of childish and unthinking people 
like you, sir, or like your predecessor in that chair, 
but utterly unworthy the consideration of this house, 
or of the matured understanding of the noble lord 
who condescends to instruct it ! Gracious God ! 
we see a Perry reascending from the tomb, and 
raising his awful voice to warn us against the surren- 
der of our freedom ; and we see that the proud and 
virtuous feelings, which warmed the breast of that 
aged and venerable man, are only calculated to ex- 
cite the contempt of this young philosopher, who 
has been transplanted from the nursery to the cabinet, 
to outrage the feelings and understanding of the 
country. 



EXERCISES. 149 

EXERCISE XV. 

THE SAME CONTINUED. 

Let me ask you, Mr. Speaker, how was the re- 
bellion of 1798 put down ? By the zeal and loyalty 
■of the gentlemen of Ireland rallying around — what ? 
a reed shaken by the winds, a wretched apology for 
a minister who neither knew how to give or where 
to seek protection ? No — but round the laws and 
constitution and independence of the country. What 
were the affections and motives that called us into 
action ? To protect our families, our properties, and 
our liberties. 

What were the antipathies by which we were ex- 
cited? Our abhorrence of French principles and 
French ambition. — What was it to us that France 
was a republic ? — I rather rejoiced when I saw the 
ancient despotism of France put down. What was 
it to us that she dethroned her monarch ? I admired 
the virtue and wept for the sufferings of the man ; 
but as a nation it affected us not. The reason I took 
up arms, and am ready still to bear them against 
France, is because she intruded herself upon our do- 
mestic concerns — because, with the rights of man 
and the love of freedom on her tongue, I see that 
she has the lust of dominion in her heart — because 
wherever she has placed her foot, she has erected 
her throne, and that to be her friend or her ally is to 
be her tributary or her slave. 
Let me ask, is the present conduct of the British 



150 EXERCISES. 

minister calculated to augment or to transfer the an* 
tipathy we have felt against that country. Sir, I will 
be bold to say, that licentious and impious France, 
in all the unrestrained excesses which anarchy and 
atheism have given birth to, has not committed a 
more insidious act against her enemy than is now at- 
tempted by the professed champion of civilized Eu- 
rope against a friend and an ally in the hour of her 
calamity and distress — at a moment when our coun- 
try is filled with British troops — when the loyal men 
of Ireland are fatigued with their exertions to put 
down rebellion — efforts in which they had succeeded 
before these troops arrived — whilst our Habeas Cor- 
pus Act is suspended — whilst trials by court-martial 
are carrying on in many parts of the kingdom — whilst 
the people are taught to think that they have no right 
to meet or deliberate, and whilst the great body of 
them are so palsied by their fears, and worn down 
by their exertions, that even the vital question is 
scarcely able to rouse them from their lethargy — at a 
moment when we are distracted by domestic dissen- 
sions — dissensions artfully kept alive as the pretext 
for our present subjugation, and the instrument of our 
future thraldom ! ! These are the circumstances in 
which the English government seeks to merge the 
national legislature of Ireland in her own. 

Sir, I thank the administration for attempting this 
measure. They are, without intending it, putting an 
end to our dissensions. Through this black cloud 
which they have collected over us, I see the light 
breaking in upon this unfortunate country. They 
have composed our dissensions, not by fomenting 



EXERCISES. 151 

the embers of a lingering and subdued rebellion — - 
not by hallooing the Protestant against the Catho- 
lic, and the Catholic against the Protestant ; not by 
committing the north against the south ; not by in- 
consistent appeals to local or to party prejudices — no 
— but by the avowal of this- atrocious conspiracy 
against the liberties of Ireland, they have subdued 
every petty and subordinate distinction. They have 
united every rank and description of men by the 
pressure of this grand and momentous subject ; and I 
tell them, that they will see every honest and inde- 
pendent man in Ireland rally round her constitution, 
and merge every consideration in his opposition to 
this ungenerous and odious measure. 

For my own part, I will resist it to the last grasp 
of my existence, and with the last drop of my blood ; 
and when I feel the hour of my dissolution approach- 
ing, I will, like the father of Hannibal, take my chil- 
dren to the altar, and swear them to eternal hostility 
against the invaders of their country's freedom. Sir, 
I shall not detain you by pursuing this question 
through the topics which it so abundantly offers. I 
should be proud to think my name might be handed 
to posterity in the same roll with those disinterested 
patriots, who have successfully resisted the enemies 
of their country — successfully, I trust it will be ; in 
all events, I have my c exceeding great reward ' — I 
shall bear in my heart the conciousness of having 
done my duty, and in the hour of death I shall not 
be haunted by the reflection of having basely sold, or 
meanly abandoned, the liberties of my native land. 
Can every man who gives his vote on the other side, 



152 EXERCISES. 

this night, lay his hand upon his heart, and make the 
same declaration ? / hope so — it will be well for his 
own peace : — the indignation and abhorrence of his 
countrymen will not accompany him through life, 
and the curses of his children will not follow him to 
his grave. 



EXERCISE XVI. 

TRIBUTE OF MR. BURKE TO THE ENTERPRISING 
SPIRIT OF THE NEW ENGLAND COLONISTS. 

As to the wealth, Mr. Speaker, which the colonies 
have drawn from the sea by their fisheries, you had 
all that matter fully opened at your bar. You surely 
thought these acquisitions of value, for they seemed 
even to excite your envy ; and yet the spirit by 
which that enterprising employment has been exer- 
cised, ought rather to have raised your esteem and 
admiration. And pray, sir, what in the world is 
equal to it ? Pass by the other parts, and look at 
the manner in which the people of New England 
have of late carried on the Whale fishery. 

Whilst we follow them among the tumbling moun- 
tains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the 
deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay, and Davis 5 
Straits, whilst we are looking for them beneath the 
arctic circle, we hear that they have pierced into 
the opposite region of polar cold, that they are at 
the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent 
of the South Falkland Island, which seemed too re- 



EXERCISES. 153 

mote and romantic an object for the grasp of nation- 
al ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the 
progress of their victorious industry. 

Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to 
them, than the accumulated winter of both the poles. 
We know that, while some of them draw the line and 
strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, others run 
the longitude, and pursue their gigantic game along 
the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed with 
their fisheries. No climate that is not witness to 
their toils. Neither the perseverance of Holland, 
nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and 
fine sagacity of English enterprize, ever carried this 
most perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent 
to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; 
a people, who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, 
and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood. 

When I contemplate these things ; when I know 
that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to 
any care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into 
this happy form by the constraints of a watchful and 
suspicious government, but that, through a wise and 
salutary neglect, a generous nature has been suffered 
to take her own way to perfection ; when I reflect 
upon these effects, when I see how profitable they 
have been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink, 
and all presumption in the wisdom of human contriv- 
ances melt and die away within me. My rigor re- 
lents. I pardon something to the spirit of liberty. 



13 



154 EXERCISES. 

EXERCISE XVII. 

the discontented pendulum. — Jane Taylor. 

An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a 
farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause 
of complaint, early one summer's morning, before 
the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. 

Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fa- 
ble,) changed countenance with alarm : the hands 
made an ineffectual effort to continue their course : 
the wheels remained motionless with surprise : the 
weights hung speechless ; each member felt disposed 
to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial 
instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stag- 
nation ; when hands, wheels, weights, with one 
voice, protested their innocence. But now a faint 
tick was heard below, from the pendulum, who thus 
spoke : — 

" I confess myself to be^the sole cause of the pres- 
ent stoppage ; and am willing, for the general satis- 
faction, to assign my reasons." Upon hearing this, 
the old clock became so enraged that it was on the 
point of striking. 

" Lazy wire !" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding 
up its hands. 

u Very good !" replied the pendulum, " it is vast- 
ly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as 
every body knows, set yourself up above me — it is 
yastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other peo- 



EXERCISES. 155 

pie of laziness ! You, who have had nothing to do 
all the days of your life but to stare people in the 
face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that 
goes on in the kitchen ! Think, I beseech you, how 
you would like to be shut up for life in this dark 
closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after 
after year, as I do." 

" As to that," said the dial, cc is there not a win- 
dow in your house on purpose for you to look 
through ?" 

"For all that," resumed the pendulum, " it is 
very dark here, and although there is a window, I 
dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out. Be- 
sides, I am really weary of my way of life, and if 
you please, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my 
employment. This morning I happened to be cal- 
culating how many times I should have to tick in the 
course only of the next twenty-four hours ; perhaps 
some of you above there, can give me the exact 
sum." 

The minute-hand, being quick at figures, in- 
stantly replied, " Eighty-six thousand four hundred 
times." 

" Exactly so," replied the pendulum ! " well, I 
appeal to all, if the thought of this was not enough to 
fatigue one ; and when I began to multiply the 
strokes of one day by those of months and years, 
really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the pros- 
pect ; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesita- 
tion, thinks I to myself — I'll stop." 

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance dur- 
ing this harangue ; but, resuming its gravity, thus 



156 EXERCISES* 

replied :— " Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really aston- 
ished that such a useful, industrious person as your* 
self should have been overcome by this sudden sug- 
gestion. It is true you have done a great deal of 
work in your time. So we have all, and are likely 
to do ; and although this may fatigue us to think of, 
the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do ; 
would you now do me the favor to give about half 
a dozen strokes, to illustrate my argument ?" 

The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at 
its usual pace : — u Now," resumed the dial, " may 
I be allowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fa- 
tiguing or disagreeable to you. 

" Not in the least," replied the pendulum ; — " k 
is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, 
but of millions." 

" Very good," replied the dial, " but recollect that 
although you may think of a million strokes in an 
instant, you are required to execute but one ; and 
that however often you may hereafter have to swing, 
a moment will always be given you to swing in." 

" That consideration staggers me, I confess," said 
the pendulum. 

" Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, "we 
shall all immediately return to our duty ; for the maids 
will lie in bed till noon, if we stand idling thus." 

Upon this, the weights, who had never been ac- 
cused of light conduct, used all their influence in 
urging him to proceed ; when, as with one consent, 
the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, 
the pendulum began to wag, and, to its credit, tick- 
ed as loud as ever ; while a beam of the rising sua 



EXERCISES. 157 

that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, 
shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as 
if nothing had been the matter. 

When the farmer came down to breakfast that 
morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that 
his watch had gained half an hour in the night. 



EXERCISE XVIII. 



EN GLANDERS. W. Irving. 

In the last chapter I have given a faithful and un- 
prejudiced account of the origin of that singular 
race of people, inhabiting the country eastward of 
the Nieuw Nederlandts ; but I have yet to mention 
certain peculiar habits which rendered them exceed- 
ingly obnoxious to our ever-honoured Dutch ances- 
tors. 

The most prominent of these was a certain ramb- 
ling propensity, with which, like the sons of Ishmael, 
they seemed to have been gifted by Heaven, and 
which continually goads them on to shift their resi- 
dence from place to place, so that a yankee farmer 
is in a constant state of migration ; tarrying occasion- 
ally here and there ; clearing lands for other people 
to enjoy ; building houses for others to inhabit, and 
in a manner may be considered the wandering Arab 
of America. 

His first thought, on coming to the years of man- 
hood, is to settle himself in the world — which means 
13* 



158 EXERCISES. 

nothing more or less than to begin bis rambles. To 
this end he takes unto himself for a wife some buxom 
country heiress, passing rich in red ribands, glass 
beads, and mock tortoise-shell combs, with a white 
gown and morocco shoes for Sundays, and deeply 
skilled in the mystery of making apple sweetmeats, 
long sauce, and pumpkin pies. 

Having thus provided himself, like a pedlar, with 
a heavy knapsack, wherewith to regale his shoulders 
through the journey of life, he literally sets out on 
the peregrination. His whole family, household 
furniture, and farming utensils, are hoisted into a cov- 
ered cart ; his own and his wife's wardrobe pack- 
ed up in a firkin — which done, he shoulders his axe, 
takes staff in hand, whistles " Yankee doodle," and 
trudges off to the woods, as confident of the protec- 
tion of Providence, and relying as cheerfully upon 
his own resources, as did ever a patriarch of yore, 
when he journeyed into a strange country of the Gen- 
tiles. Having buried himself in the wilderness, he 
builds himself a log hut, clears away a corn-field and 
potatoe patch, and, Providence smiling on his labors, 
is soon surrounded by a snug farm and some half a 
score of flaxen-headed urchins, who, by their size, 
seem to have sprung all at once out of the earth, like 
a crop of toad-stools. 

But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable 
of speculators to rest contented with any state of sub- 
lunary enjoyment — improvement is his darling pas- 
sion, and having thus improved his lands, the next 
care is to provide a mansion worthy the residence of 
a land holder. A huge palace of pine boards imme- 



EXERCISES, 159 

diately springs up in the midst of the wilderness, 
large enough for a parish church, and furnished with 
windows of all dimensions, but so rickety and flimsy 
withal, that every blast gives it a fit of the ague. 

By the time the outside of this mighty air-castle is 
completed, either the funds or the zeal of our adven- 
turer are exhausted, so that he barely manages to 
half finish one room within, where the whole family 
burrow together — while the rest of the house is de- 
voted to the curing of pumpkins, or storing of car- 
rots and potatoes, and is decorated with fanciful fes- 
toons of dried apples and peaches. The outside re- 
maining unpainted, grows venerably black with time ; 
the family wardrobe is laid under contribution for old 
hats, petticoats, and breeches, to stuff into the brok- 
en windows, while the four winds of heaven keep 
up a whistling and howling above this aerial palace, 
and play as many unruly gambols, as they did of 
yore in the cave of old iEolus. 

The humble log hut, which whilome nestled this 
improving family snugly within its narrow but com- 
fortable walls, stands hard by, in ignominious con- 
trast, degraded into a cow-house or pig-stye; and the 
whole scene reminds one forcibly of a fable, which I 
am surprised has never been recorded, of an aspir- 
ing snail, who abandoned his humble habitation, 
which he had long filled with great respectability, to 
crawl into the empty shell of a lobster — where he 
would no doubt have resided with great style and 
splendor, the envy and hate of all the pains-taking 
snails in his neighborhood, had he not accidentally 



160 EXERCISES. 

perished with cold, in one corner of his stupendous 
mansion. 

Being thus completely settled, and to use his own 
words, " to rights," one would imagine that he would 
begin to enjoy the comforts of his situation, to read 
newspapers, talk politics, neglect his own business, 
and attend to the affairs of the nation, like a useful 
and patriotic citizen ; but now it is that his wayward 
disposition begins again to operate. He soon grows 
tired of a spot where there is no longer any room for 
improvement — sells his farm, air-castle, petticoat win- 
dows and all, reloads his cart, shoulders his axe, 
puts himself at the head of his family, and wanders 
away in search of new lands — again to fell trees — 
again to clear corn-fields — again to build a shingle 
palace, and again to sell off and wander. 

Such were the people of Connecticut, who bor- 
dered upon the eastern frontier of Nieuw Neder- 
landts ; and my readers may easily imagine what ob- 
noxious neighbors this light-hearted but restless tribe 
must have been to our tranquil progenitors. If they 
cannot, I would ask them, if they have ever known 
one of our regular, well-organized Dutch families, 
whom it hath pleased Heaven to afflict with the 
neighborhood of a French boarding-house ? The 
honest old burgher cannot take his afternoon's pipe 
on the bench before his door, but he is persecuted 
with the scraping of fiddles, the chattering of wo- 
men, and the squalling of children — he cannot sleep 
at night for the horrible melodies of some amateur, 
who chooses to serenade the moon, and display his 
terrible proficiency in execution, on the clarionet, the 



EXERCISES. 161 

hautboy, or some other soft-toned instrument — nor 
can he leave the street door open, but his nose is 
defiled by the unsavoury visits of a troop of pug 
dogs, who even sometimes carry their loathsome 
ravages into the sanctum sanctorum, the parlor ! 

If my readers have ever witnessed the sufferings 
of such a family, so situated, they may form some 
idea how our worthy ancestors were distressed by 
their mercurial neighbors of Connecticut. 

Gangs of these marauders, we are told, penetrated 
into the New Netherland settlements, and threw 
whole villages into consternation by their unparallel- 
ed volubility, and their intolerable inquisitiveness — 
two evil habits hitherto unknown in those parts, or 
only known to be abhorred ; for our ancestors were 
noted as being men of truly Spartan taciturnity, and 
who neither knew nor cared aught about any body's 
concerns but their own. Many enormities were 
committed on the highways, where several unoffend- 
ing burghers were brought to a stand, and tortured 
with questions and guesses, which outrages occasion- 
ed as much vexation and heart-burning as does the 
modern right of search on the high seas, 



162 EXERCISES. 

EXERCISE XIX. 

Gertrude. — Mrs. Hemans. 

The Baron Von Der Wart, accused, though it is believed unjustly, 
as an accomplice in the assassination of the emperor Albert, was 
bound alive on the wheel, and attended by his wife Gertrude, 
throughout his last agonizing moments, with the most heroic 
fidelity. Her own sufferings, and those of her unfortunate hus- 
band, are most affectingly described in a letter, which she after- 
wards addressed to a female friend, and which was published 
some years ago at Haarlem, in a book entitled ' Gertrude Von 
Der Wart, or fidelity unto Death.' 

Her hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised, 

The breeze threw back her hair; 
Up to the fearful wheel she gazed — 

All that she loved was there. 
The night was round her clear and cold. 

The holy heaven above; 
Its pale stars watching to behold 

The night of earthly love. 

' And bid me not depart,' she cried, 

' My Rudolph ! say not so ! 
This is no time to quit thy side: 

Peace, peace ! I cannot go. 
Hath the world aught for me to fear, 

When death is on thy brow ? 
The world! what means it? — mine is here — 

I will not leave thee now ! 

' I have been with thee in thine hour 

Of glory and of bliss; 
Doubt not its memory's living power 

To strengthen me through this! 
And thou, mine honored love and true, 

Bear on, bear nobly on! 
We have the blessed heaven in view, 

Whose rest shall soon be won.' 



EXERCISES. 163 

And were not these high words to flow 

From woman's breaking heart? 
— Through all that night of bitterest wo 

She bore her lofty part: 
But oh! with such a freezing eye, 

With such a curdling cheek — 
— Love, love! of mortal agony, 

Thou, only thou, shouldst speak! 

The winds rose high — but with them rose 

Her voice, that he might hear; — 
Perchance that dark hour brought repose 

To happy bosoms near — 
While she sat striving with despair 

Beside his tortured form, 
And pouring her deep soul in prayer 

Forth on the rushing storm. 

She wiped the death damps from his brow, 

With her pale hands and soft, 
Whose touch upon the lute chords low, 

Had stilled his heart so oft. 
She spread her mantle o'er his breast, 

She bathed his lips with dew, 
And on his cheek such kisses pressed 

As Joy and Hope ne'er knew. 

Oh! lovely are ye, Love and Faith, 

Enduring to the last! 
She had her meed — one smile in Death 

And his worn spirit passed. 
While even, as o'er a martyr's grave, 

She knelt on that sad spot, 
And, weeping, blessed the God who gaie 

Strength to forsake it not! 



164 EXERCISES. 



EXERCISE XX. 

CASABIANCA. 

Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the ad- 
miral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the 
Nile) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been 
abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the 
flames reached the powder magazine. 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled: 
The flameUhat lit the battle's wreck: 

Shone round him o'er the dead: 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm; 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though child-like form. 

The flames rolled on — he would not go, 

Without his father's word; 
That father, faint in death below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud: — Ct Say, Father, say 

If yet my task is done ? " 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

" Speak, Father!" once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone! 
And " — but the booming shots replied, 

And fast the flames rolled on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death 

In still, but brave despair. 



EXERCISES. 165 

And shouted but once more aloud, 

« My Father! must I stay ?" 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 

The wreathing fires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 

Like banners in the sky. 

There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh! where was he? 
Ask of the winds that far around 

With fragments strewed the sea — 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 

That well had borne their part: 
But the noblest thing that perished there 

Was that young faithful heart! 



EXERCISE XXI. 

EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Cowper. 

Dear Joseph — five and twenty years ago — 
Alas! how time escapes! — 'tis even so — 
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet, 
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat 
A tedious hour — and now we never meet! 
As some grave gentleman in Terence says, 
('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days,) 
Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings — 
Strange fluctuations of all human things! 
True. Changes will befal, and friends may part, 
But distance only cannot change the heart; 
14 



166 EXERCISES. 

And, were I called to prove the assertion true, 
One proof should serve — a reference to you. 
Whence comes it, then, that, in the wane of life, 
Though nothing have occurred to kindle strife^ 
We find the friends we fancied we had won, 
Though numerous once, reduced to few or none. 
Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch? 
No; gold they seemed, but they were never such. 

Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, 
Swinging the parlor door upon its hinge, 
Dreading a negative, and overawed 
Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad. 
Go, fellow! whither? turning short about — 
Nay, stay at home — you're always going out. 
'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end — 
For what? An please you, sir, to see a friend — 
A friend! Horatio cried, and seemed to start — 
Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart — 
And fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, 
I'll see him too — the first I ever saw. 

I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, 
And was his plaything, often, when a child; 
But somewhat at that moment pinched him close, 
Else he was seldom bitter or morose. 
Perhaps his confidence just then betrayed, 
His grief might prompt him with the speech he made : 
Perhaps 'twas mere good humor gave it birth, 
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth. 
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind, 
Bespoke at least, a man that knew mankind. 

But, not to moralize too much, and strain, 
To prove an evil of which all complain, 



EXERCISES. 



167 



(I hate all arguments verbosely spun,) 
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. 
Once on a time, an emperor, a wise man, 
No matter where, in China or Japan, 
Decreed, that whosoever should offend 
Against the well-known duties of a friend, 
Convicted once, should ever after wear 
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. 
The punishment importing this, no doubt, 
That all was naught within, and all found out. 

O happy Britain, we have not to fear 
Such hard and arbitrary measure here; 
Else, could a law, like that which I relate, 
Once have the sanction of our triple state, 
Some few that I have known of old, 
Would run most dreadful risks of catching cold; 
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, 
Might traverse England, safely, to and fro ; 
An honest man, close buttoned to the chin, 
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within. 



EXERCISE XXII. 

THE COUNTRY BUMPKIN AND RAZOR SELLER. 

P. Pindar. 

A fellow, in a market-town, 

Most musical, cried razors up and down, 
And offered twelve for eighteen pence; 

Which, certainly seem'd wondrous cheap, 

And, for the money, quite a heap, 
That every man would buy, with cash and sense. 



168 EXERCISES. 

A country bumpkin the great offer heard; 

Poor Hodge, — who suffered by a broad black beard, 
That seemed a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose. 

With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid, 

And, proudly, to himself, in whispers said — 
' The rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 

' No matter if the fellow be a knave, 

Provided that the razors shave; 
It certainly will be a monstrous prize.' 

So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, — 

Smiling, — in heart and soul content, 
And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. 

Being well lathered, from a dish or tub, 

Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grub — 

Just like a hedger cutting furze : 

'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he try'd; — 
All were impostors. ' Ah ! ' Hodge sighed, 

1 I wish my eighteen pence was in my purse.' 

In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 
He cut, and dug, and whinid, and stamped, and 
swore ; 
Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed and made 
wry faces, 
And cursed each razor's body, o'er and o'er. 
His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, 
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff ; 
So kept it — laughing at the steel and suds. 

Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, 
On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
' Razors ! a vile, confounded dog ! — 



EXERCISES. 169 

r 

Not fit to scrape a hog ! ' 

Hodge sought the fellow — found him — and begun — 

1 P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue ! to you tis fun 
That people flay themselves out of their lives. 

You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, 

Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing 
With razors just like oyster-knives. 

Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave, 

To cry up razors that can't shave. y 

' Friend,' quoth the razor man, ' I'm not a knave 
As for the razors you have bought, — 
Upon my soul, I never thought 
That they would shave.' 

'Not think they'd shave?' quoth Hodge with 

wond'ring eyes, 
And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 
: What were they made for, then, you dog ? ' he cries. 
' Made ! ' quoth the fellow, with a smile — * to sell.' 



EXERCISE XXIII. 

REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN 

ANY OF THE BOOKS. Cowper. 

Between Nose and Eyes, a strange contest arose, 
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ; 

The point in dispute was, as all the world knows, 
To which the said spectacles ought to belong. 

So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause 
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning; 
14* 



170 EXERCISES. 

While chief baron Ears, set to balance the laws, 
So fam'd for his talent in nicely discerning. 

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, 

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, 

That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, 
Which amounts to possession time out of mind. 

Then, holding the spectacles up to the court — 

Your lordship observes they are made with a 
straddle, 

As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, 
Design'd to fit close to it, just like a saddle. 

Again, would your lordship a moment suppose 

('Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again) 

That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, 
Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then ? 

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, 
With a reasoning the court will never condemn, 

That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, 
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. 

Then shifting his sides, as a lawyer knows how, 
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes ; 

But what were his arguments few people know, 

For the court did not think they were equally wise. 

So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, 
Decisive and clear, without one if or but — 

That whenever the Nose put the spectacles on, 
By day-light or candle-light — Eyes should be shut. 



EXERCISES. 171 



EXERCISE XXIV. 

THE MODEST RETORT. 

A supercilious nabob of the east, 

Haught, being great, and purse-proud, being rich, 
A governor, or general, at the least, 

I have forgotten which, 
Had in his family an humble youth, 

Who went from England in his patron's suit, 
An unassuming boy, and in truth 

A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 

This youth had sense and spirit; 

But yet, with all his sense, 

Excessive diffidence 
Obscured his merit. 

One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, 
H s Honor, proudly free, severely merry, 

Conceived it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his secretary. 

" Young man," he said " by what art, craft, or trade 

Did your good father gain a livelihood ? " 
"He was a Saddler, sir," Modestus said, 

"And in his time was reckoned good." 
" A Saddler, eh ! and taught you Greek, 

Instead of teaching you to sew : 
Pray, why did not your father make 

A Saddler, sir, of you ?" 

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, 
The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 
At length Modestus, bowing low, 



172 EXERCISES. 

Said, (craving pardon, if too free he made) 
" Sir by your leave, I fain would know 
Your father's trade." 

" My father's trade! by Heaven, that's too bad ! 

My father's trade ? why, blockhead, are you mad? 
My father, sir, did never stoop so low — 

He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." 

<( Excuse the liberty I take," 
Modestus said, with archness on his brow, 
" Pray, why did not your Father make 
A gentleman of you ? " 



EXERCISE XXV. 

ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZONl's EXHIBI- 
TION, London. — Neio Monthly Magazine. 

And thou hast walked about (how strange a story !) 
In Thebes' streets, three thousand years ago, 
When the Memnonium was in all its sjlory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

Speak ! for thou long enough has acted dummy, 
Thou hast a tongue — come let us hear its tone ; 

Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy ! 
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, 

l\ r ot like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 

But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 

Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect, 
To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame ? 



EXERCISES. 173 

Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 

Of either Pyramid that bears his name ? 
Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? 
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 
By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade; 

Then say, what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? 

Perhaps thou wert a Priest — if so, my struggles 

Are vain, — Egyptian priests ne'er owned their juggles. 

Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 
Has bob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh glass to glass ; 

Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, 
Or doff'd thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 

A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 

I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 
Hast any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled, 

For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 
Ere Romulus or Remus had been suckled — 

Antiqu ty a| pears to have begun 

Long after thy primeval race was run. 

Since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange muta- 
tions ; 

The Roman empire has begun and ended ; 

New works have risen — we have lost old nations, 

And courtly kings have into dust been humbled, 

While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, 
When the great Persian conqueror Cambyses, 



174 EXERCISES. 

March 'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 

O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 

If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 
The nature of thy private life unfold : — 

A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 
And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled :— 

Have children climb'd and kissed that face ? 

What was thy name and station, age and race ? 

Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead ! 

Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
Posthumous man, whoquitt'st thy narrow bed, 

And standest undecayed within our presence, 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warn- 
ing. 

Why should this worthless tegument endure, 

If its undying guest be lost forever ? 
O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 

In living virtue ; that when both must sever, 
Although corruption may our frame consume, 
Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 



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